Bridget Orr

Wannabe Hacks put out a call for journalists with disabilities to write about their experiences in journalism. Here’s my response:

What’s the hardest thing about being a journalist?

Is it coming up with interesting ideas that could be developed into newsworthy pitches? Finding the motivation to crack on with difficult assignments while juggling day jobs and distractions elsewhere? Being able to cope with evenings of networking and nights alone at the laptop trying to finish a piece?

For a journalist with Asperger’s Syndrome, you would be likely to answer “all of the above”.

 Asperger’s Syndrome is a hidden learning disability on the Autistic Spectrum. As a young woman with the condition, I have to work hard at improving my social communication, concentration skills and spatial awareness. People with Asperger’s are defined by their tendencies to stick to routines and certain regimes and their (in)ability to adapt to changes such as relocation or breaking into new groups.

Some of you neurotypical journalists reading this may assume that I am automatically unsuitable for working in the media. Your assumptions were probably raised by the Onion News Network’s (obviously fake) autistic reporter who is more comfortable parroting facts about trains than interacting with grieving relatives.

But I would like to think that this is a reflection on how my condition is reflected in the extremes of breaking news television and narrow media stereotypes, than on autistic journalists as a whole.

After all, we are likely to be more passionate about words, popular culture or design than we are about measurements and statistics. Far from being cold and humourless, we have to work harder to reach the levels of our neurotypical counterparts in terms of self-awareness and understanding different perspectives.

We can spot typos and design flaws (not necessarily at 50 paces!), and use our recall of general knowledge to steer the newsroom quiz team to victory.

Unfortunately, it seems that editors are unlikely to take the chance. Like Maxine Roper last month, I feel that during challenging times in journalism, editors expect journalism graduates to be self-assured and entrepreneurial, with 100wpm shorthand, social media savvy and clean driving licences.

For journos like myself who thrive under supportive and encouraging environments, it is especially disheartening when you are rejected due to worries about your confidence or lack of abilities.

This ultimately culminated in the afternoon where I walked out of the NCTJ Local Government paper in tears. Looking back, I feel that my journalism course was more harmful than beneficial to my career. Even though I enjoyed Friday afternoon drinks with my colleagues and was grateful for support from the university’s Disability Service, I found it hard to cope with commuting, workloads and frustrations at Teeline speeds.

As a journalist on the autistic spectrum, I was too stubborn to admit that my situation was caused by poor preparation and choices. If I was an aspiring journalist now, I wouldn’t even start to apply for courses without half- or full-day work experience stints at smaller newspapers beforehand.

These not only provide good cuttings for portfolios, but provide insight into newsroom atmosphere and relationships within. The trouble is, this may prove to be too challenging for some aspiring journalists on the spectrum!

I would also recommend singling out passions that you feel comfortable talking about and finding websites and publications that will not only refresh your knowledge but provide opportunities for contributions. The Internet has helped me network with other journalists, and I recommend forums such as Journobiz that give glimpses into freelancers’ working lives and how they help each other.

Since my journalism course two years ago, I have only just regained my confidence in developing ideas and writing. Thanks to Linda Jones at Passionate Media, telephone mentoring has allowed me to not only talk through pitches and action plans, but to recognise that I should develop at my own pace and stop comparing myself with my former colleagues.

Most journalism courses aim to equip you with the basics in a short time. The trouble is, it takes a long time to figure out the most painful and valuable lessons.

(Originally published in WannabeHacks, June 2 2011)

This is a relief! I’ve been trying to crack IdeasTap for quite a while, in an attempt to redeem myself in their eyes after this humiliating event. After they put out a call for members to produce features on their hometown’s creative hubs, I wrote this feature, and hope to write even more.

Writing a guide to your hometown is harder than it looks.

I want to cut away from the “Scotland with style” marketing sheen and provide an insider’s guide the things I’ve enjoyed and hope to enjoy in the future, but not resort to warning you about bad weather and public transport.

After all, as Glaswegian electronica blog GLISCO put it, “When God was making Glasgow, he spent a lot of time getting it just right: harsh weather conditions, a vicious undercurrent of football and religion-related hatred and an anti-social phenomenon known as Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday night made sure that everyone spent so much time hiding indoors, the music and club scene soon became one of the nation’s finest. It was all part of the plan.”

For me, the best thing about growing up in Glasgow was visiting museums and art galleries for free. Even outside the mainstream, there are exhibitions in abandoned shops (such as The Inventors of Tradition on Stockwell Street) and vegan cafés/gig venues/record shops (such as Heger’s “Raw Genesis” at Mono).

I work in the Merchant City, and sometimes feel tempted to bunk off early and spend my afternoons in Trongate 103. This six-storey arts resource is home to the Transmission Gallery, Project Ability, and the Sharmanka Kinetic Theatre – and even a Russian restaurant. The centre also hosts monthly “First Thursday” events, featuring previews and live performances.

One of my favourite spots for writing and performance inspiration is Words Per Minute. Held at The Arches on the second Sunday of each month, the event sees new writers and performers on the same bills as established figures such as Rodge Glass. In fact on their next session (6 February), some writer called Irvine Welsh will be showcasing some short films.

For musically inclined creatives, city-centre pub Bloc hosts its own “Blochestra” on Monday nights, where you can bring your musical instruments (the odder, the better) to perform indie cover versions.

I’m a regular at the Arches Community Choir every Thursday evening from 7 to 9pm. The Choir prides itself on “singing the guitar solos”, no matter how ambitious or preposterous they sound (you should hear our Yeah Yeah Yeahs covers), placing as much importance on fun as four-part harmonies.

Crafting cafes are popular in Glasgow, with both The Life Craft in Glasgow’s West End and the Merchant City’s Make It Glasgow catering to both beginners and experienced crafters. They provide great spaces for tutorials and arranging meetups; sewing machines for hire and coffee and expertise at close hand.

They’re not just for individual projects though. Both cafés are drop-off points for Glasgow’s own version of the Papergirl project, which distributes free works of art to passersby. Most Life Craft regulars will also be creating knitted squares for sitandknitabit’s commemorative artwork for the centenary of International Women’s Day, where the café is providing free coffee for their time.

One of the joys of being a creative in this city – either as a born and bred Glaswegian or a newcomer – is discovering even more for yourself.

(Originally published on Ideas Tap, January 28 2011)

My name is Bridget Orr and I am a Glasgow-born and based freelance journalist, who is about to graduate with an MLitt/PGDip in Journalism Studies from Strathclyde University.

I was a joint winner of the inaugural Mary Stott Prize courtesy of the Guardian’s Women’s Pages in 2007 and shortlisted in the 2009 Write Stuff awards for Scottish journalism students, and was also published in Glasgow University’s award-winning qmunicate magazine, This is Fake DIY and Dollymix (RIP?).

I enjoy getting to grips with interesting subjects, and making the mundane interesting. Most important of all, I am patient, enthusiastic and flexible enough to manage a variety of opportunities.

If interested in what I do, please contact me through the various channels provided and I’m only happy to reply.

In June 2008, after completing the Mary Stott Prize placement at the Guardian, a commissioning editor for a certain Sunday supplement asked me if I would like to write a few hundred words about how my condition shaped my life.

The essay remained unpublished even after drafts were filed, payments were made and photographers were sent to the house. For all the catharsis I felt writing the piece and ensuring that my strange mind was made rational and relatable, you can clearly see why.

A sudden realisation as I get off the bus: ‘Where’s my wallet?’ My shopping plans have just been dashed. I have no money or cash cards, my library card is gone too and I don’t want to pay a tenner to replace it and I’ve lost my travel card, which can be replaced easily but I didn’t want to lose in the first place. I should be calm, but I am panicking wildly, almost crying, furious at losing it in the middle of the weekend, at the poor man at the bus company lost property desk who really can’t see my wallet, at the person who has claimed my wallet, and also at myself.

I know I’m overreacting, but this is the Asperger’s Syndrome in me, where changes plans and routines make me panic wildly about ever going out again. Normal people do these silly things too, but they seem to cope better than me.

I can’t help but wish I was just a normal 22 year-old. I went to a variety of special and mainstream schools and would like to live an independent life unhampered by the consequences of my condition.

Depending on which study on Asperger’s Syndrome you read, there can be up to 15 times as many boys with autistic spectrum disorders (of which Asperger’s is one) as girls.

Girls like me, who have learned to be polite and well-behaved, seem more easily than boys, to be able mask the most common traits of Asperger’s syndrome - the inability to intuit social situations and small talk (such as making the right apologetic noises when bumping into someone or making eye contact), difficulty understanding figures of speech and sarcasm and having passionate, bordering on obsessive, interests. But for me, the main problem for me in accepting my condition is not knowing where my ‘autistic traits’ end and my most dislikeable faults begin. And whether all the things I worry about are down to Asperger’s, or whether they are normal for a 22-year-old who has been protected by her family all her life.

I was diagnosed with the condition when I was two, but started to notice the consequences of my ‘label’ when I was three. I was shunted around nursery schools when the teachers felt that they couldn’t handle a girl like me - I was slightly disruptive and aggressive, taking my frustration out on other children. I found myself whisked in a taxi every morning to a special pre-school group in Yorkhill Children’s Hospital, Glasgow. I remember getting distressed every time they took a different route to the hospital (I think I preferred the one that passed the McDonalds Drive Thru - I was a toddler after all), and was scared of a strict nursery teacher who tried to make me eat banana one morning, when I couldn’t swallow it down. Even now the smell of bananas reminds me of how scared I was that day and that this condition is incurable.

I am the youngest of 11. My mother, who I live with, was stricter about me going out independently than most girls my age. When I went to a secondary school away from my local area, I wasn’t allowed to travel independently or meet up with classmates after school. My brothers and sisters still joke that I shouldn’t be thinking about boys, but I worry that hey are not completely joking, that they would go mad if I brought a boy home. That’s something I’m missing. I can’t banter with them, joke back and so stand up for myself. Living an independent life sometimes seems as frightening as living with my mother all my life.

I know I can come across as aloof, because I tend to hold back on calling my friends out on their remarks, for fear of being seen as the humourless one and therefore prone to more jokes. This made me feel isolated during my school days and I often had to accept being happy in my own company. Thanks to communication skills coaching - where my speech therapist and I would role play conversations and scenarios and I’d learn to make the right responses - I am making eye-contact, reading body language and managing the tone and pitch of my voice much better than I used to when I started secondary school, but still lack confidence at making small talk and introducing myself.

I get irritated by the most trivial things. In one recent temp job, I was particularly sensitive to workmates singing to the radio. It’s frustrating not being able to cope with it like ‘normal’ people’. I never mentioned it to them, not knowing whether they would take it seriously or just assume that I was being anti-social.

For all the worst aspects of having Asperger’s Syndrome, there are some benefits. I used to read lots of factual books when I was younger, and now end up on pub quiz teams that tend to win. I learned to read before starting school and have developed a passion for words, easily understanding different languages and being able to decipher the meanings of complex words, while still finding it hard to recognise when compliments are genuine. Stereotypically, high-functioning autists are associated with maths and sciences, but in my experience their sidelined female counterparts are similarly interested in language.

My condition has made me more driven to become a writer. I recently graduated with 2.1 in English Literature and Film and Television Studies at Glasgow University much to the pleasant surprise of those who thought that people with Asperger’s didn’t do arts-based degrees. I am struck by odd little things and their relation to the bigger picture, more of an observer of people’s behaviour than a participant and this inspires my writing. Most importantly, I just seem to write better than I speak. If you have the misfortune to talk to me, I stammer slightly and have the bad habit of not following through what I want to say or go in a flap about discussing too much.

Writing allows me to say the things I want, but with more control. I divide myself between my everyday self and my outgoing, feisty writer alter ego who bitches and uses bigger words that the cautious and boring old Bridget Orr can get away with. Yet, boring old Bridget has to deal with feedback from her writing and any criticism that comes her way. Luckily, comments to my work have been helpful and positive. My confidence was boosted this year by being named joint winner of the Guardian’s Mary Stott Prize, for aspiring Women’s Page Editors and I felt that I was closer to writing for a living. Yet, for all the social skills help I got when I was at school, I worry that I’m unprepared in being assertive and defending myself against negative criticism. I want to be able to take criticism less personally. But perhaps this is something that all 22-year-olds worry about.

This partially explains my lack of success in relationships. I am plagued by a fear of talking to boys, afraid of what they (or even I) will say, and how my condition will affect things. Unlike boys with Asperger’s syndrome, whose flaws have been conflated with a general masculine nerdiness, girls like me are not entitled to the notion that we will have good-looking partners falling for us. Like other girls I am sometimes concerned about how I look, whether I am too fat or ugly for certain boys, but I also worry about whether my condition will make me even more unattractive.  I worry that I might not be able to read the signs when boys are not interested, that I won’t know when to let go, and whether as a result I am unknowingly ‘stalking’ the people I like.

Even though I am equally uncomfortable within the mainstream and ‘autistic’ worlds, I have still kept a low profile about my condition up until now. At university I told my tutors, but I never let any friends know. I wonder whether after reading this, my friends will have ‘known’ all along, that having Asperger’s Syndrome ‘explained’ my worst flaws.

When I was in special schools and units, where the autistic girls were encouraged to buddy up together, I was conscious of how different I was from other girls (being separated from my friends in primary school did not help). For me, some of my strongest and most comfortable friendships have happened through chance, and even though I hate being less chatty and more passive than them, I do appreciate them being there. I enjoy doing seemingly ordinary things with them like going to the cinema and the obligatory Pizza Hut afterwards (even though the background music annoys me) and whilst I am not as enthusiastic about them about working on a short film, they do accept my stubborn independent streak. Elsewhere, I am happiest being lost in my surroundings whether trawling through second-hand book shops or curled up with books in coffee shops, owning my anti-social tendencies.

What will the future mean for me? As people like me are finishing university and worrying about paying off student loans and the responsibilities of adulthood, I sometimes wonder if I should be panicking about more serious things than lost wallets on buses. If I want to do a post-grad course I might have to relocate, leave the family and friends I have depended on and my cosy University world.

For all my worries about my Asperger’s being a bad thing, maybe it is about time to appreciate my condition and how it has actually enriched my life.

Lilly Through the Dark's defining characteristics could have hampered its success. A “grown-up fairytale”, I feared childlike innocence would lose out to cynical and knowing transgressions of sanitised childishness. The puppetry too could be a gimmick disguising flawed aspects of the play. With these thoughts in mind, it would be impossible to be sucked into the world of the play.

Yet, a characterful mandolin score played by playwright Edward Wren offstage helps to do so. The four live-action players at the start are rambunctious if unidimensional at first, but as the narrative progresses, they develop and show off more emotional and physical depth throughout.

The sparse stage allows the uneasy space between life and death to be portrayed successfully. The lonely book-strewn corner room Lilly escapes from to search for her father repeats itself throughout as stacks of books are used as steps and bridges in the underworld.

The play is defined by relationships between comedy and tragedy and also life and death. Some of the gallows humour used to illuminate the dark story seem too laboured and cliched, but the “Tweedledum and Tweedledee”-style hangmen are able to provide enough audience-pleasing comic relief during a rather desperate narrative development.

Finally, I have to mention the chemistry between Claire Harvey (Alice) and her puppet creation, Lilly. Even though it is strange to discuss chemistry between an actor and a puppet, it was present here as Harvey divested the staid, sad-eyed Lilly with enough emotion and childlike naivety without relying on shrill histronics or childish parody.

(4 Stars)

(Published on Fest Magazine website, August 23 2009)

As the audience assembles, Barry and Stuart sit at a corner table on stage. The Aberdeenshire-based comic magicians are drinking cups or tea in clean white cups and saucers. This action looks too suspicious to be innocent, as if they are glancing directly behind an invisible painting. What horrible surprises are planned for their second Fringe show?

Sure enough, their apparent friendliness is dashed immediately with an opening trick involving Polo mints and cheesewire reminiscent of a lost episode of How 2. The outcome is just as disgusting and satisfying as the audience hope, but the tricks that follow are more hit and miss.

Some of the humour can be a little too predictable -just what horrors could a needle in the eye possibly entail? - and others hark back to less offensive magic tricks, allowing the pair to riff on magical conventions with an affectionate sense of humour. The set may not be as dark and subversive as Barry and Stuart seem to think it is, but their on-stage chemistry and childlike fascination with trickery make up for any shortcomings in an enjoyable show.

(3 Stars)

(Published on Fest Magazine website, Friday August 21 2009)

Celia Pacquola emerges onto the stage in a ramshackle fashion. Her feet poke out from behind a black screen that she appears to be trying to hide behind and her opening remarks are hesitant and unsure.

This shoddiness characterises a set that attempts to lead us through Pacquola’s emotions following a painful multiple betrayal by an ex-boyfriend. Throwing pictures up on to the screen to symbolise her emotions and clicking her fingers whenever she wants us to experience what she was going through, Pacquola irritates more than she engages.

Digressions outside of the theme are equally uneven, descending into inappropriately tasteless rape gags and random “How crazy am I?!” territory far too often. Pacquola herself is likeable, and clearly intelligent enough to develop her act away from confessional material. But, as the title may have pre-warned you, this show isn’t much more than a wallow in self-obsession.

(2 stars)

(Published on Fest Magazine website, August 18 2009)

THE TEAMS competing in the annual Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race this Sunday are already hitting milestones before the race has even started.

Oxford’s Dark Blues broke their own record set in 2005 by fielding their heaviest ever team, with an average individual weight of 15st 9lb 13oz. For rowing enthusiasts and observers of the Boat Race, this could indicate the direction of the victory. The weight of the crew can prove to be an advantage for the teams as according to the Race’s recent history, two out of three Boat Races have been won by the heaviest crews.

Yet Cambridge’s Light Blues have possible marketing prospects in mind for the University’s octocentenary celebrations. If they are successful this year, Cambridge would be able to extend their lead over Oxford to 80 wins. The possibilities of conflating this win with the larger celebrations have not been lost on the team.

The Boat Race Outings before the race itself on Wednesday could give an idea of what lies in store for the crews on Sunday. Both crews endured strong currents along the Tideway and the Oxford crew experienced rolling waves from Putney to Fulham and after Barnes Bridge, and experiencing a crab (where the oar is pulled round past the oarsman, and the crew did not actually suffer the indignity of wrestling a crab) at Hammersmith.

In contrast, Cambridge’s experiences were less harsh. At the same Boat Race Outings, the Light Blues survived through dreadful water below and above Putney Bridge, concluding with a two minute row off the start against their reserves, Goldie. They were unable to do their simulated stake boat start, owing to the weather conditions but managed to finish one and a half lengths faster and ship a lot of water.

There are constant arguments about the Boat Race and whether it is relevant in today’s sporting life. As the Boat Race reaches its 180^th anniversary next year (including the years disrupted by both World Wars), there is still no end to comments dismissing it as an irrelevant relic of class division and public-school and Oxbridge-educated elitism that bears no relation to the contemporary sporting climate.

Bob Reid, Secretary of the Glasgow Rowing Club laughed when describing the Boat Race’s dominance of the British rowing calendar and said: “It’s a long way from what we do on the Clyde as you’ve realized, but what we’ve found is that it is very elitist at that elite end of the sport, and as I say, nothing like what we do up here which is a bit of a shame as we get tarred with the same brush!”

Reid described the extent of the race’s dominance when he described his experiences the previous weekend watching the ‘Head of the River’ race in London. Reid added: “There was no publicity whatsoever apart from a picture in The Herald. But you could imagine the crowds who were attracted to 428 boats from all over Europe as opposed to the 2 boats racing on Sunday.”

Most Scottish readers would have been unaware that 16 Scottish crews raced that weekend and the fastest crew, the Glasgow Rowing Club themselves, reached 36^th place. Reid attributes this to the lack of rowing coverage in this country, describing how the Rowing Club relies on smaller newspapers in the Gorbals to promote their activities.

These controversies flared up in relation to broadcasting the race. The BBC will resume broadcasting the Boat Race in 2010 after ITV relinquished its rights in favour of enhanced football rights, despite last year’s coverage attracting a peak audience of 7.6 million. Even though the Boat Race is no longer covered by the Government’s revised “crown jewels” legislation in 1998 ensuring that it is always televised live, these audience figures are comparable to important matches for Euro 2008, the final day of the Ryder Cup and even outstripping the Tour De France.

The Boat Race has attempted to become more relevant to the contemporary sporting climate in recent years. Both Oxford and Cambridge rowing teams have come under criticism for recruiting foreign students as postgraduates – some even being world champions and Olympiads - to the universities in order to beat the opposition. Despite the globalised approach here, the exorbitant costs of oars and boats, and the exclusive nature of rowing clubs within the Oxbridge spheres still betrays this endeavour.

It can be easy to be cynical about the prevalence of “ringers” within the Oxbridge crews in recent years. Yet a recent interview in the Financial Times with Cambridge cox Rebecca Dowbiggin emphasized her own conflict between her passion for rowing and her PhD Anglo-Saxon history.

Perhaps this uneasy position within contemporary sport is beneficial to the Boat Race. Writing in The Guardian’s Sport Blog last year, Boat Race media director John Colland described the race as one of the only truly amateur sports tournaments where crews train and compete on a world-class standard but without the world-class pay or runner-up medals that permeate other sporting events. It is more likely however, that viewers might see the future Olympic rowers dominating Great British medal expectations in the run-up to London 2012.

Unfortunately for amateur rowing clubs across the country, the Boat Race will always be synonymous with rowing in this country. Outside of triumphant British gold medalists clambering out of their boat in relief, the Light and Dark Blue crews across the Thames Tideway are the most recognizable images in British rowing and this culminated in an image of the Cambridge crew crossing the Thames tideway being used to illustrate a question asked in Slumdog Millionaire.

Whether you are willing on one of the universities to triumph or for both to capsize, it seems that the Boat Race will still be sailing on.

(Published March 26 2009)

THERE are many factors that prevent people from trying out equestrian sports. For instance, there are geographical factors that have to be considered, whether the nearest stables are too far or inaccessible to get to. There are economic and possible social factors, where the cost of keeping your own horse, or paying for the lessons and appropriate clothing and equipment are too high, or people just assume that riding is only for snooty rich girls and not for people like themselves.

Whether these factors are entirely reasonable, it does not mean that disability should not be one of them.

Since its inception in 1969, the Riding for the Disabled Association (RDA) have endeavoured to help improve the lives of disabled adults and children through the provision of horse riding and carriage driving services. There are over 500 volunteer groups affiliated with the RDA throughout the UK, and more than 18,000 volunteers dedicate a total of over 3.5 million hours of their time helping over 25,000 adults and children make the use of the benefits. Considering these current figures, it is unsurprising that the groups are still looking for more volunteers.

Whilst there are obvious health and fitness benefits for all riders, these are made imperative for users at the RDA. Roslyn Malcolm, the fundraising co-ordinator of the Glasgow group described some of the health benefits and said: “We do a lot of things to help people with their health – mental or physical – and we run a physiotherapy service and therapy classes where for example, we use sheepskin rugs under the horse’s saddle to help create the movement of walking.

“It’s very much focused that way, all of our riders and carriage drivers have been referred by a medical professional. That’s the way it goes for all of the RDA – it’s a very medically-based charity and a lot of our riders and carriage drivers come with complementary therapy too. It’s not just a pony ride.”

To emphasise the health benefits, Ms Malcolm described the progress of one of the young riders in the group. Ms Malcolm said: “We had a girl come for lessons who had a brain haemorrhage when she was three. She’s been riding with us for three years now and she’s started to walk after being completely paralysed.”

Ms Malcolm also described the feelings of independence and achievement riders received away from protective parental fears and said: “Because we’re close to the countryside it’s nice for the kids to come from the city centre and all around Glasgow, and I doubt that they get the chance very often to get to trek around the Kelvin.”

Adults and children who are unable to ride can also develop the same health benefits through Carriage Driving. Working with the British Driving Society (BDS), carriage drivers in RDA groups are encouraged to develop their skills and proficiency tests, and increase their knowledge and decision-making skills.

This sense of achievement can be developed through participation in the RDA’s own National Championships held every Summer in Hartpury College, Gloucestershire. Participants are allowed to take part in traditional disciplines such as dressage but there are more unusual competitions such as vaulting, horse care and knowledge and even the RDA’s own obstacle course the “Countryside Challenge” which acts as an alternative to mainstream equestrian disciplines. The inclusive nature of the Championships is evident here as teams who are unable to travel can submit DVD entries for Musical and Drill Ride competitions judged at regional level.

Some members who have developed their skills through RDA courses have ended up progressing to Paralympians level. The RDA are particularly proud of Natasha Baker, who is on the prestigious World Class Start programme for paralympic dressage. After Baker received special dispensation from the International Paralympic Equestrian Committee to compete in her first international competition, she is now on the World Class Silver Potential Pathway.

Kay Woodcock, Dressage and National Championships Secretary for the National RDA also wished to describe the success of one of the key Scottish Para-Equestrians and said: “Jo Pitt is a Scottish Rider based in Aberdeenshire who was on the Paralympic long list for the Beijing Olympics, unfortunately she was not selected to compete at the games. She regularly writes a column for the British Dressage Magazine on Para Matters which makes interesting reading.”

For all the physical and psychological benefits through riding, the RDA also helps to improve the literacy and numeracy of its users. To achieve this, the Association work with the Award Scheme Development and Accreditation Network (ASDAN) to offer ‘Transition Challenge’ or ‘Towards Independence’ qualifications to riders who are leaving schools.

The RDA works with special schools throughout the area, and both head teachers and schools inspectors have observed positive relations with the curriculum during lessons. It is because of this positive influence, that the group are in favour of more flexible and ‘joined up’ education in contrast to more prescriptive and rigid models.

Roslyn Malcolm described a typical lesson at the RDA and said: “The things we have to teach the children, like we have to run a certificate programme and proficiency test. It’s more about teaching the points of the horse, colours and so it’s really good for teaching word recognition and remembering things like that about the horses.

“In classes, you know the letters around the wall? The instructors use them for children to recognise symbols like ‘The house’ or ‘The elephant’ so they are learning all the time really.”

The RDA are celebrating their 40^th anniversary with events including their own nationwide World Record attempt at organising the “World’s Biggest Riding Lesson” on the September 30 of this year. As the organisation celebrates some of the successes and progresses they have made in the past 40 years, even revisiting some of their success stories in a book published this year, it seems that the RDA will still be seeking volunteers.

For the RDA group in Glasgow, they have just recovered from a joint celebration. Last year, the group celebrated their 40^th birthday and also the 21^st anniversary of their current Sandyflat premises in Summerston. It is a far cry from the group’s modest beginnings in 1967 where lessons were held at a spare field in a farm with only a couple of borrowed ponies.

Beacon readers interested in volunteering for the RDA in Glasgow can find more information on www.rdaglasgow.org or contact the Sandyflat stables on 0141 945 1369.

(Published March 26 2009)

Geoff Holder, author of Mysterious Glasgow, started off the interview with a ghost story set in Partick’s disused Quaker cemetery.

Holder said: “Well the story goes that there was a person there, the only one whose grave had a plaque on it, was the wife of a prominent Quaker and she acquired the nickname in later years as ‘Quaker Meg’.

“I can trace this story back to the late 1960s where local children would go to the graveyard to see her grave, and they would get close to it and whisper ‘What have you had for breakfast today Meg?’ and if you put your ear to the ground she would say…”,

He paused then said: “…nothing”.

Like the children perpetuating the ‘Quaker Meg’ myth, Geoff Holder’s paranormal interest developed from a childhood obsession with dinosaurs. Dinosaurs “acted as a portal, because it got me into dragons which were like dinosaurs but even cooler because they breathe fire, and that led me into getting into mythology and then into folklore, and horror, science-fiction and the supernatural…so I’ve been interested in the paranormal for a long time.”

Described a hoax circulating around the publication of Frankenstein where executed murderer Matthew Clydesdale’s corpse ‘came to life’ moved during electrical experiments, Holder said: “He stood upright, he marched around the stage, he grimaced, he seemed to point accusingly at the audience and it wasn’t until the doctor thrust his neck that he fell to the ground and died for the second time – Unfortunately it’s not true!”

Holder rationalizes phenomena, accepting that strange things happen but without convincing evidence. Describing the decrease in devil sightings in Scotland from the 17^th and 18^th centuries, he said: “So what’s changed, has the devil got bored in Scotland, is he no longer active or has the culture changed?” Comparing these visions to fairy and alien abductions, he added: “I guess that people are having strange experiences but what I’m suspicious about are the explanations that are given for these experiences.”

Holder has written six guides so far with eight more to follow but wants to write supernatural fiction. He said: ‘Do you think, with all this stuff that I have been thinking about, writing and researching for the past few years, is it possible that I’m going to write a romance?

“I can wrestle with it in a jokey way, because there’s several things that I’ve come across when researching the books that I’ve thought ‘That would make a great story!’ or part of a story, and I’ve just filed it away so I can use it later.”

Holder is influenced by Charles Fort, founder of the Fortean Times, Neil Gaiman, whom he described as having “created this cauldron of collected stories and folklore” and the “extraordinary individual” H.P. Lovecraft but reserves particular fascination with his fans that have taken Lovecraft’s stories as basis for reality about the supernatural worlds.

Holder himself has a following of readers of both sides of the Atlantic and said: “The email I get from British readers is that ‘This strange thing happened to me. Have you heard about this?’ and the email I get from American readers tend to be ‘I’ve been channeling the spirit of a 12^th century Irish saint’; it’s often how they divide so far.”

British readers also tell Holder of their childhood experiences, providing content for subsequent guides, and with a follow-up to Mysterious Glasgow commissioned for 2011, Geoff Holder is counting on these same readers.

(Published March 8 2009)

THERE is an annoying craze spreading around the world making us infantile, ruining our social lives and possibly contributing to cancer. Highly-paid newspaper columnists and confused television presenters spend valuable column inches and screen time raving how tedious it is. Just what is the point about talking about the tedium of Twitter?

Commentaries on Twitter focus on the same things. The celebrity Twitterers such as Jonathan Ross (@wossy), and more bizarrely, Shaquille O’Neill who recently posted messages about a recent appearance in Traffic Court addressed to his “Tweeple” helped to popularise the site but generated pop-psychological commentary on the collective lack of identity of their followers. With the popularity of other social networking sites such as Facebook, commentaries paint pictures of disconnected and mildly-narcissistic urbanites wasting time at work.

But genuine Twitterers enjoy the pointlessness. Tweets about staying in on Saturday night are more comforting than similar numbers about a catastrophic event and recent mass discussions on the more embarrassing moments of last week’s Brit Awards or the worst moments of M. Night Shymalan’s ‘The Happening’ as organised by comedy writer Graham Linehan (as featured on @badmovieclub) are reassuring pleasures.

The makeshift community spirit developed through Twitter inspired the first mass Glasgow Twestival taking place here in Partick’s Sith Café (@sithcafe). Inspired by a London Twestival in September 2008 incorporating a food and fundraising drive for city-wide homeless charities into a Twitter meet-up, this was part of a larger Twestival spanning 202 cities around the world raising money for ‘Charity: Water’ projects.

The Twitterers I met at the Twestival had varying motivations for getting into the social networking site. Joanne Dodd (@jkdodd) and her boyfriend Chris (@chris_papertank) bickered about how they ended up on Twitter. As Chris stated on the record about the Twestival that: “She made me go! I don’t use Twitter really, I was dragged!”, Joanne denied any coercion whatsoever with a pithy “No you weren’t”.

Compared to Chris’s mock irritation with Twitter, another Twitter widower (or should it be Twidower?) accepted the Twitter spirit. Peter Saffrey, a research assistant in the Computing Science Department of Glasgow University was part of an origami-bird production line with his Twittering wife, Abi Saffrey (@abisaffrey) an editor who works in the publishing industry. Peter said: “We’ve made 2-4-6-7 origami birds. We have this theory of picking a really high number for the sweepstakes and then we’ll be making a lot of origami birds all night.”

Both Peter and Abi were annoyed that the positive aspects of Twitter were undermined by uninformed media attention. Abi responded to an article on the Twestival in that day’s Metro, and said: “It’s awful! I think it’s a community, a local community, that decided that we’re going to have an event for charity and encourage people to meet up and that it’s building community links, but because it’s online, it’s seen as incredibly nerdy!”

Jennifer Neville and Clark Nicol from Broomhill did not use Twitter before stumbling into the Twestival. They were bemused by how their night had turned out and Jennifer exclaimed: “I’ve never been on Twitter in my entire life and here I am making these birds!”

Even if Jennifer and Clark do not change their minds, the cosy atmosphere during the Twestival should surely dispel notions that Twitter friends cannot be real friends. The Glasgow gathering raised a total of £240, a fraction of the £3427 raised at the significantly larger Edinburgh gathering, but the Twestival managed to persuade nervous Twitterers, to meet formerly distant Twitter friends, make origami birds and drink copious amounts of tea on a cold February evening.

Sith Café Assistant manager Paul Dunlop said: “I’ve only become involved [in Twitter] due to working here… So this is a social aspect to twitter, but because I’m not online myself it gets quite difficult, but I can totally imagine the kind of community it can foster just hearing what people all over the world get up to.”

But I allowed Twitterer Zoe Murray (@milkyzoe) to have the final word: “I think compared to any other social network it’s quite refreshing because it’s not all about yourself.” Something most uninformed Twitter critics should take note.

(Published February 17 2009)

The chat show Loose Women is nearly a decade old and has won awards and a loyal following. But isn’t its central conceit - a grating panel of minor-league presenters - its own worst enemy, asks Bridget Orr

When Jodie Prenger appeared on Loose Women on Tuesday - having just won the BBC talent show I’d Do Anything - it felt less like watching a lap of honour around the media circuit and more like a premonition: it was just so easy to imagine her as a future panellist on the the ITV daytime show. As she chatted with the four regular presenters - who include a former soap star, a Nolan sister and Chris Evans’ ex-wife - I wondered how Prenger’s public image would shift if she was onscreen every day. If she was heard referring to her weight as often as the current panellist Carol McGiffin refers to her drinking and sex life, could her popularity withstand the pressure? Unlikely.

Loose Women is, in many ways, hateful. And that prompts a question. How can a lively, long-running programme with an all-female presenting roster get it so completely wrong? It is particularly disappointing when you consider the central conceit of the show, which is that it features a group of sassy, liberated female panellists, able to speak their minds on any subject from politics to celebrity to family life.

The schedule each day runs like this.

First, the panellists are generally introduced in a semi-insulting way; just think of some twisted terminology regarding female appearance, misbehaviour or the ravages of old age and it seems you could well be a writer for Loose Women. There follows a brief focus on a current news item, which commonly devolves into discussion of McGiffin’s alcohol intake, Coleen Nolan’s weight issues, or simply a barrage of tiresome sexual innuendo. Then comes a celebrity interview, in which the panellists attempt to cut against the usual tone and inject some gravity into the proceedings. However hard they try, unruliness tends to break through, and, once again, everything the panellists say sends the audience into peals of rapturous, inexplicable laughter.

Confused but still intrigued by what you have been missing? The first thing that will strike a first-time viewer of Loose Women is the objectification and/or denigration of any man who happens to drift into the panellists’ orbit. The show has a cult following of ironic student viewers and gay guys, likely lured by the recognition that no man - from the most aesthetically pleasing pop star to the longest-suffering husband - can escape the scrutiny of the hormone-crazed panellists. I’ll admit it: I have been lured by this too. There is something terrifying about the prospect of, say, former Coronation Street star Sherrie Hewson asking a member of a Christian boy band about relationships - but it also promises to be strangely compelling.

Male viewers embarrassed at the lechery on Loose Women could well complain that this is a case of feminism “going too far”. There could never be an all-male equivalent to the show called Talking Balls, where a crew of laddish reality-TV rejects and failed boybanders leered at the female soap stars brought on to sate them. Not only would it obviously be sexist, but the idea would never be floated in the first place. The schedulers would naturally expect the core demographic for such a non-politically correct, hyper-masculine show to be at work by then.

If Loose Women tells us anything, it is that, as far as schedulers are concerned, daytime television is just for silly women.

But even if this is what they think, even if most cheaply made daytime television is aimed at those apparently “undiscerning” viewers - housewives, students and the unemployed - surely it would help to add a little substance to the downmarket glitz? You would think so, but the trajectory of Loose Women since it started in 1999 suggests that, when it comes to viewer approval, probably not. For the first seven years, the panel was anchored by the talismanic “voice of reason”, journalist Kaye Adams, who did her best to keep the show’s panellists on track. Since she left, replacement hosts Jackie Brambles and Andrea McLean have attempted to do the same, but have been fighting a losing battle. Despite this, the programme recently won its first major award, voted Best Daytime Show by viewers at the TV Quick and TV Choice awards. It’s obviously doing something right.

For those of us who long for some content, there are occasional glimmers of hope.

Earlier this week, for instance, the panel interviewed Green Wing actor Michelle Gomez, who is doing promotion for her current starring role in the RSC’s Taming of the Shrew. The show’s usual mood was derailed as Gomez went off into an unexpected, somewhat feminist tangent about how the themes of the Shakespearean comedy reflect the misogyny in today’s society. After that, the subject quickly turned to cosmetic procedures, but the interview offered a tantalising glimpse of what daytime television “for women” should be like.

In that regard, the US seems to do a little better - its ABC channel features the American predecessor to Loose Women, The View, which is anchored by the pioneering female broadcaster Barbara Walters. Although The View is often overshadowed by media coverage of its panellists (when the comedian and TV presenter Rosie O’Donnell was a regular, she was repeatedly criticised for her appearance, sexuality and conspiracy theories), it does at least have some formidable and very funny contributors. Last year, for instance, Oscar-winning actor Whoopi Goldberg joined the programme.

Essentially, it is the lack of genuinely interesting panellists that I find most offensive about Loose Women. The camaraderie among the panel can be endearing, and I respect all those involved for having succeeded in the worlds of media and showbusiness, which are typically tough, male-dominated arenas. Ideally, though, a show such as Loose Women should really live up to its promise by casting the most intelligent, funny and diverse female personalities around; instead it resorts to former soap stars and reality-show contestants sitting around discussing their worst habits - and those of their husbands. Do women really need to be patronised like this?

In case you missed them … Four top moments from Loose Women

Russell Brand hangs around the studio like a bad smell

The four presenters talk about the etiquette of flatulence, including whether Carol McGiffin, who declares that she “quite likes doing it … the louder the better”, would feel comfortable “pumping” in front of her “dream man”, Russell Brand. As McGiffin weighs this up, to her huge surprise, Brand appears, and they proceed to discuss her earlier admission that she would pay him for sex. Later the host, former Corrie star Denise Welch, gives him an eyeful of her cleavage, he is grilled about his sex life, and is involved in a discussion of the “suede crotch” of McGiffin’s jodhpurs. Excellent.

Puppy love

All the presenters get dressed up in their wedding finery to watch Charlie, a dog owned by presenter Sherrie Hewson, get married to a canine called Dolly. Yes, really. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the dogs are dressed in wedding outfits and Torchwood star John Barrowman presides over the ceremony with countless bad puns (the nuptials are termed, “puptials”, for instance) . The long-suffering host, Kaye Adams, says “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Nor can we.

Drooling over Enrique Iglesias

Host Jackie Brambles sets the tone for an interview with the singer, introducing him with the observation, “Boy, could he be my hero baby.” Another presenter tells Iglesias, “We don’t want to ask you anything, we just want to look at you,” and regular panellist Nolan says, “You look fabulous.” He tells Nolan that she’s “cute”, at which point she cups her breasts and pushes them towards him. More flirtation follows, before Iglesias yelps “You’re embarrassing me.” The audience knows exactly how he feels.

What Katie did

As glamour model Katie Price comes on to be interviewed, Nolan admits that she has been worried. “I thought, ‘I’m going to look flat-chested today,’” she says. “Yours actually look bigger than mine,” says Price. “Exactly! I’m quite proud of myself,” says Nolan, scooting her chair even closer to Price’s. More breast talk ensues.

From http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/jun/06/women.television/print, June 6 2008.

Just because you can’t see women with Asperger’s doesn’t mean we’re not here, says Bridget Orr

I am a girl with Asperger’s syndrome. And if you thought that the sob story ended there, I’m afraid that there’s more: my condition is inescapable, and four times as many boys have it. I rarely saw myself reflected anywhere in relation to the condition. The newsletters my mother received from the local autistic society always featured a blank but crying young boy. I used to go to special schools and classes that were dominated by rowdy and moody boys, and even the misconceived stereotype of people with autistic spectrum disorders is that of a humourless and awkward-looking nerdy man with an attitude problem. I am offended most by the “awkward-looking” part.

Like the girls and women featured in Joanna Moorhead’s piece, I too have struggled to fit in with the mainstream and also the autistic subculture. No matter which school I went to, I would either feel frustrated by the chaotic mainstream world or suffocated by special schooling. Yet, I knew I wanted to live a normal and independent life like my big brothers and sisters, and not be dependent on my mother like the sons of my mother’s friends.

I am still a normal young woman. Because so many of my experiences have been shaped by my condition, it is easy to forget that my life has also been shaped by society’s expectations of girls my age. I am sure I would have loved reading, disliked school dinners and hated my teachers in any type of school, and I guarantee that all young people, autistic or not, are worried about their plans for the future and how to assert their independence. Feeling uncomfortable in one’s skin is not just an autistic trait.

If there is one slight difference between my experiences and those of the “normals”, it is my subconscious fear that losing a wallet or a mobile phone could set my personal independence back 10 years.

As much as it is hard to be a girl with Asperger’s syndrome, it is still unimaginable what my life would be like if I were “normal”. I would love being more confident around new people and assertive about my feelings and opinions, but surely these can be developed with time. I do not believe in autistic pride, but I would hate to lose my determination to take on new challenges and become more independent. Female “invisibility” in the autistic spectrum should be a feminist issue. For all the struggles with employment, family relationships and individuality that “normal” women face every day, we face these too - and more besides. You only have to look at the lists of famous people who, it has been speculated, were in the autistic spectrum - Isaac Newton, Ludwig van Beethoven, Albert Einstein, - to see how boys’ autistic traits are synonymous, to some extent, with success. For girls like me who have been affected by autism, the challenge is to stand up for ourselves in the male-dominated world of the autistic spectrum, yet reassure ourselves that we are still normal girls.

From http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/jun/04/women.familyandrelationships, June 4 2008

Bridget Orr writes…

What does it mean to be a virgin in this day and age? When you think back on your frightening adolescence, it seemed that everyone from the most cocksure captain of the senior football team to the placid school swot had niggling thoughts about being the only virgin in their group even if they kept those worries to themselves.

It seemed even worse when the yearbook categories came along and being named the one ‘Most likely to die a virgin’ was seen as only marginally worse than the ‘Biggest Slut/Player’ - but then the pressures of adulthood with new opportunities, careers and social circles kicked in and the prospect of dying a virgin seemed even more real. To put it bluntly, this post is me outing myself as a twenty-one year old virgin, and I’m not sure that it’s something to be proud of.

Contrary to popular opinion, it is very easy to end up being classed as ‘most likely to die a virgin’. First of all, it helps to have a very large (and devoutly Catholic!) family where being a good Catholic girl is actively promoted by strict mothers and protective older bothers and also in the behaviour of your nephews and nieces scaring you into identifying as child-free in order to prevent the spread of the evil gene. Secondly, it helps to be an annoyingly well-behaved and hard-working student, yet naive to the fact that being in the front desks and smugly raising your hand up in class as if you are pushing your good-girlness in your classmates’ faces does not make you cool or popular. This situation was never helped by being an unfashionable fat girl who always looked out of place when everyone was wanting to look older than they were.

So the idea that remaining a virgin is somewhat subversive and (oh dear!) empowering in both the original and bastardised ‘feminist’ senses according toCristina Odone is slightly confusing. Fair enough, you could argue that I didn’t get where I am today because I was pretty and popular, and you could use that old anti-feminist jibe about me writing about all this injustice and confusion because I am too ugly and shrill to attract a man in the first place. The trouble with this idea of prudishness being seen as cool and empowering is that it still exacerbates the same old stereotypes of the virginal seductress, and with the element of hymenoplasties and ‘second virginities’, the virginal female can be accused of hypocrisy and trickery when defining herself as a virgin.

For ‘grown-up’ virgins like myself, the bad old adult world is no more threatening than the school playground. You are still scarred by the likelihood of dying a virgin and there is still the assumption that everyone in your workplace or flat has done it. In a perfect world, you would have found the love of your life who you would have saved yourself for up until your wedding night or have decided to devote your attentions to religious life saying to yourself ‘why have a nuclear family, when you could be part of a wider religious family?’ What if you don’t want to get married to your lifelong partner or to the church? I bet my mother never told me about those problems when she warned me about staying a ‘good girl’. Even if you are stubborn about waiting until you find the right person or the ideal situation despite or because of religious beliefs or sexual orientation, virginity is still linked with worry about the perfect future. Nobody seriously wants to be nun when they grow up. Especially me, with the nun in each side of her family fearing that it skips a generation.

If virginity is so empowering as Odone and countless abstinence promoters have previously made out, how come my big brothers never got those sorts of warnings apart from their brief spells in the seminary? The range of euphemisms that relate to virginity - and its retention and dispersion thereof - can be seen to illustrate the contrasting gendered messages about virginity that we are bombarded with. Girls are bombarded with imagery of pure young women (who are often skinny blue-eyed blondes) who treat their hymens like precious jewels (oh dear) unlike those slutty and skanky broads who have gotten around so much that they have all the attractive qualities of a half-nibbled KitKat on re-used sticky tape and therefore can never have a loving and lasting relationship with her Prince Charming and have oodles of beautiful children. On the other hand, the virginity euphemisms for boys relate to the puerile nature of adolescent male heterosexuality where being a male virgin is just marginally more embarrassing. Anyone who can say that they “dated Justin Timberlake and saved themselves for marriage” in a straight face is probably still a virgin. Or not. I hate ironic euphemisms.

I would like to think that the ‘zavvi gift card’ is a good gender-neutral euphemism for virginity. Not only is it as toe-curlingly embarrassing as you want it to be, the euphemism works on so many levels regarding society’s over-reliance on the importance of virginity. It takes into consideration the value (not necessarily monetary) bestowed upon it by the giver and receiver and also whether the receiver is going to spend it on a whim during the January Sales and regret it later, or wait until the perfect moment when the Nintendo Wiis are back in stock. What the donor forgets to tell you however, is that the gift card may have an expiry date, and if you forget to spend them in time you never will. Me and my zavvi gift card - I don’t know whether the questions should start with ‘How?’ or ‘Why?’ and I also don’t know the answers either.

Bridget Orr would like to apologise to Virgin Megastores/zavvi for the irreverently disparaging nature of their presence in this blog, and also to any older relatives reading this and being horrified about her opinions…

(Published January 4 2008 on Dollymix)

As Katie pointed out yesterday, women cannot win regarding their expression of emotions in public or lack thereof. There are so many stereotypical generalisations which link to our emotional expressions: if we hit out at the nearest (in)animate object, we are crazy unfeminine ball-busters; if we maintain stiff upper lips, we are emotionless fembots and if we cry too much or even in public, we are hysterical, irrational overgrown babies and can never be taken seriously by the big bad patriarchy.

It therefore seems that the only emotion a woman can show is to feel calm, serene and show a readiness to suffer fools and haters gladly. Yet, no matter how hard you try to stay calm for the sake of your project deadlines, your family and your sanity there are moments where everything explodes and you can’t help but cry, rant and/or hit stuff. After the jump, here are my tips and methods on how to cope with these moments (plus a special treat for all of you emotional people!):

If you’re about to cry…
I have had previous experiences where I have ended up bursting into tears in public and unfortunately I am one of those types who would just end up crying whilst everyone else stays calm. But the next time it nearly happens? There are many little methods of trying to stop the tears (or at least delay any tearful reaction). Physical methods include jutting your jaw out several times, doing some small and discreet breathing exercises to calm yourself down or even biting your lip (when doing this, do this gently or you will end up crying with pain). It helps to have a helpful mindset too, try not to think about not crying in public and remain focused on something akin to a mental version of Cute Overload, reassuring yourself that this is not the worst that can happen.

But what if you do end up crying?
The main ‘damage limitation’ method would be try and hold back your tears until the nearest bathroom. Whilst there, try not to spend far too long sobbing and cooling yourself down with cold water given that you will have to leave somehow! Take time out from the office or campus environment by taking a short walk and/or plugging into your own musical environment (not necessarily emo!) before having to face all the questions about your state.

If you are at school or college and you have ended up crying over a disappointing essay or exam mark, or your class being shouted at even though it was those noisy students at the back, crying in public can be a humiliating experience. Whilst you might try and shrug off your emotional outburst if a tutor speaks to you, it helps to be assertive. As much as is possible or appropriate, tell them about your problems with both of your reactions and ask for constructive advice at a time when you have calmed down. It reassures the both of you, if not the tutor who does not want to be seen as either unfeeling or a raging monster who hates students!

How do you manage your emotions in future?
The main method of preventing yourself from crying in public, or crying less frequently, is to manage your emotions (positive as well as negative). At home, you can create a calming environment with calming oils, peaceful baths at night and ensuring you have a good night’s sleep. It helps to discuss your emotions with parents or good friends as soon as possible, or if better, in more cheerful moments where ranting can be interspersed with coffees, cakes and chattering about the things you like. Update your journal every night (whether in paper or online, just as long as you have appropriate security) where as well as your rants about everything, remember to write about at least one positive thing about your day, your life or yourself (because it is okay to grin for no apparent reason too!).

So where is that special treat for all of us feeling emotional then?
Here is my favourite song about crying, 'It's Alright to Cry' from Sesame Street. I hope you show it to anyone who feels ashamed about their emotions.

(Published October 26 2007 on Dollymix)

Lynne Miles, in her latest post on the F Word has struck a slight chord with me and how my plodding through Weight Watchers seems to be in conflict with my own feminist thoughts on body image. Far from being one of those slightly myopic rants from a gossipy office co-worker who whinges about size zero celebrities one minute before raving about a new diet the next until she berates one of the temps who has the nerve to tuck into some sweets in the space of an issue of Closer, Lynne actually has some serious scruples with WeightWatchers and their politics.

The example in the blog post focused on the supposed success stories used to illustrate the life-changing benefits of the plan. I appreciate the successful slimmers who have managed to fit into stunning wedding dresses, run marathons, transform their wardrobes and generally become more confident in their professional and personal lives. What I do not appreciate however, is the narrative structure which every one of the success stories followed. They all seemed to be “Girl or guy feels fatter and less acceptable than everyone else, so they go to WeightWatchers, lose weight and the detractors start to like them again!”.

This narrative pattern was at the forefront of Lynne’s chosen example of the successful slimmer who managed to win the job that she was denied 30 pounds earlier. I don’t want to begrudge Susan’s success in slimming or in her career, but there are so many questions and irritations that have been left unanswered by WeightWatchers. For example, why did they never reassure her that the problem with her rejection lay partly at the image-conscious (and sexist!) company she worked at instead of making her body issues even more problematic by implicitly blaming her?

The stereotypical narrative of the middle-aged and stressed-out WeightWatcher rediscovering their inner goddess (sorry!) through the plan also seems to assume that weight watching seems to be their only achievement in their lives and that attaining a perfect image to keep their partner happy is the only real achievement in a woman’s lifetime. They don’t care about your lovely family, your dream job or your hard-earned degree unless these achievements can be equated to pounds or stones over your goal weight. The meetings seem to adhere to this stereotypical narrative too, with talks about how housewives were far trimmer in bygone days due to rationing, doing labour-intensive housework during the day and being free from those evil labour-saving technologies.

Writing as a slightly grumbling and cynical WeightWatcher who, to be honest, has bigger (groan!) priorities on her mind right now, I apologise if this post does veer into ‘gossipy office worker’ territory. Whilst I will still attend WeightWatchers meetings like the masochist that I sometimes am, I have to wonder whether I need to sort out my feelings as well as my eating habits. Should I keep telling myself that everything would be better if I was at my healthy BMI range or start to believe in the radical notion that it would be better if everything didn’t demand that I was at a certain BMI range? Or is that just another naive assumption just like the one about WeightWatchers being empowering?

(Published October 17 2007 on Dollymix)

- Yet another blurby post based on the picture.

- One of my more picture-based Dollymix articles.

What makes a fangirl different from any run-of-the-mill fan? Is there any difference at all? Bridget Orr explores the world of the fangirl.

I would like to make one thing clear: Liking things is good. In a cynical and superficial world where it is much easier to slag things off so people can bray in agreement instead of just admitting to liking things in the face of ridicule, or even worse, jumping on and off bandwagons dependent on whenever it is cool or ironic to do so - it is harder and much more rewarding to like things for the sake of liking them and then sticking with them. Especially if you end up being called a ‘fangirl’ for the reasons that you are both a fan and a girl (sorry male Dollymix readers). What is so bad about being a fangirl?

The main differences between normal fans and squeeing fangirls are ambiguous to say the least. If it helps, the easiest way to distinguish between normal fans and squeeing fangirls is being a fan. They are presumably much younger than normal fans. They are presumably girlier than normal fans. They’re not as obsessive as normal fans. They like bands, films or television series for more superficial reasons than normal fans. Putting it this way, they are not normal fans like you and me.

The Urban Dictionary has many definitions for ‘fangirl’, a lot of them far more biased and slightly bitter than the Oxford English Dictionary definition. Having looked at all of the definitions, a stereotypical image of the fangirl becomes more visible. The fangirl seems like a normal girl in her real life classroom, lecture theatre or desk at work, but by night she is BarrowmansBadWolf the most rabid of all Torchwood fangirls - run for your lives!

Whilst most older and sophisticated fangirls have tried to laugh off the stereotype and embrace their fangirlishness - what about the younger adolescent fangirls who are unaware of the nuances of the term? In the anti-fangirl definitions, there are the usual accusations that most young fangirls are not real fans because they were too young to remember their early EPs or just find the leading man attractive. Worse still - some anti-fangirl rants focus on their appearance and point at how they try and look like a typical fan or emo kid but look like they are trying too hard to fit in with the ‘individuals’. They just cannot win.

If there is one thing I personally hate about the ‘fangirl’ stereotype, it is that it is a disservice to female fans of anything. In male-dominated circles such as in sport, most female fans would probably know ten times more stats about their team and would still be patronised about the legs on the star player. In relation to liking boybands or other attractive and poptastic music acts, the presence of female fans can lead to sniffy male music snobs to dismiss bands as rubbish becausegirls like them. If fandom can be a great way of knowing more about your favourite things and meeting like-minded people - what’s the harm in that?

(Published October 3 2007 on Dollymix)

Bridget Orr’s last suggestions on how Dollymix readers can spend their weekends hinted slightly that they needed exercise. But what if you want a break from exercising?

Having encouraged the lovely Dollymix readers to take up activities that are energetic and muddy, I thought that you needed a bit of a change in scenery. As the weekends get colder and more damp and the shops bringing in their C****** decorations in earlier than ever (there’s a reason I brought it up), what suggestions are there for someone who wants to stay active and creative whilst the weather becomes even worse? Ever thought of pottery?

Pottery and ceramic painting classes are a great outlet for creativity and design, plus also allowing you to regress back to your primary school art class days. These classes range from ceramic painting for newcomers to pottery, and more intensive classes depending on whether you want to make a bowl or a decorative sculpture. These classes are brilliant for groups of friends and families, and if you have a party coming up, some private studios are only too happy to accommodate large parties.

Need any more reasons why pottery classes are better than long fruitless treks around the high street on the run-up to C********? Pottery and ceramic painting classes can inspire some truly individualized gifts for people you love. If you end up painting a mug on your first week, the joy of painting may lead you to make several mugs and even a tea-set. The lucky recipent will truly love a gift with an individual touch.

(Published September 28 2007 on Dollymix)

Bridget Orr returns with her perspective on the image of the ‘crazy cat lady’ - a stereotype that is as flea-bitten and deranged as the women it supposedly inspires…

The image of the crazy cat lady is one that is riddled by the many patriarchal contradictions and connotations that have restricted the individual identity of ordinary women. The crazy cat lady harkens back to the traditional and sexist imagery of the withered old crone who remained unmarried and was associated with her feline familiar up until she was drowned or burned by raging mobs with pitchforks and burning torches. Even now, the image of the crazy cat lady can still remain a nightmarish vision in the minds of cat lovers like myself, frightened of becoming as flea-bitten, scratched and cat-haired as the toys in our furrball(s)’ path.

Recently though, it appears that the image of the crazy cat lady has become less derogatory. This is due in part to the rather cat-friendly world of the internet, where cooing over kittens with millions of strangers at their desks all over the world is frowned upon less, nay encouraged, than in real life. Just imagine the consequences of bringing your adorable new kitten in and then being slapped with your ‘final warning’ from the bosses, yet work stops immediately when the receptionist on maternity leave brings the baby in.

In spite of this recent reappraisal, the image of the flea-bitten and crazy-haired lady with cats digging into each leg still remains in the real world. Just think about news stories relating to extreme cases of animal hoarding and neglect. The media use the straw figures of either the sick subhuman scumbag or the lonely old cat lady who had good intentions. Some real life crazy cat people have voiced their disapproval at this stereotyping, and raise funds and awareness of the prevention of animal cruelty in America. You have to look at the person behind the ‘crazy old cat lady’ stereotype and wonder whether her dependence on animals was probably due to the fact that people have neglected her long before she abandoned her cats?

If only it was okay for a woman to admit to enjoying owning cats, and not in a cliched ‘100 reasons why a cat is better than a man/children’ sort of way. Cat-haters (or even those who profess to be ‘allergic’ to them) allude to their relative unlovability, dishonesty, contradictory behaviour and the myth that a murderous beast lies behind every fluffy furball (and hairless sphinx). They do not understand the joys of watching cats trying to play with the people on television or tolerate every ‘present’ we receive. I bet that they’re the same people who dress their dogs in clothes and carry them in handbags - but that’s another stereotype…

(Published on September 27 2007 on Dollymix)

Magazines have shaped my long-burning ambition to write for a living. If it wasn’t for writing what would be in the speech bubbles for a story about an orphaned young horse-rider on Bunty, it would have been as an irreverent agony aunt carrying on the tradition of Cathy and Claire, a reviewer for the NME or if I was lucky, editing my own teenage magazine that would end up getting named after me. So it saddened me that the teenage girls of today are being uninspired by traditional and new media publishing in their lives…

Both the Guardian and the Telegraph report on how the websites related to both Mizz and Bliss magazines have ‘hot or not’ features concerning celebrities, lush lads and the readership themselves and the chance to purchase airbrushing software on the site, presumably for default pictures on social networking sites. The findings, that were taken from Women in Journalism’s ‘Am I Bovvered?: What are Teenage Girls Really Thinking?’ conference arrive at a time where issues of moral responsibility in response to recent scandals involving FHM are still relevant.

At the risk of sounding like a grumpy old woman at the tender age of 21 and a half, I have come to notice that teenage magazines seem to be growing closer to their older sisters in the 'Women's Lifestyle' section whilst suggesting that their readers have a reading level equivalent to someone in Primary 4. As much as the ‘grown-up’ posturing in teenage mags about fashion, boys and real life might make Concerned Mothers of Tunbridge Wells tut in the letters pages, the emphasis on the visual instead of the verbal communication in magazines betrays this supposed sophistication. Using the same old celebrity gossip, tragic life stories and body flaw features as Closer and Heat but in more ‘teenage’ language emphasises a laziness in the part of the writers suggesting that their readers are too stupid not to have read these features before much earlier on blogs or in more adult magazines.

With print magazines seemingly on the way out, the main reason is usually due to the advent of Web 2.0 being more attractive to the ‘typical’ teen with the attention span of a goldfish on sherbet. I would like to think however, that this decline is due to the lack of sufficient reading material in the magazines themselves that is not used to advertise or persuade girls to buy a certain product. Instead of perpetuating the rabid consumer with bitchiness and low-self esteem issues, why did the teenage magazines ignore real teenagers with ambitions, creativity and real feelings and opinions about the world and who could one day edit them? No, scratch that, when did the teenage magazines (and the lad mags too!) start thinking that teenagers were functionally illiterate?

(Published September 21 2007 on Dollymix)

Bridget Orr will not patronise the lovely Dollymix readers by assuming that the only things they do at the weekend is shop. After trying to convince them to get riding (horses, of course!), Bridget has more suggestions for getting out of the shops and doing something interesting.

With the knowledge that climate change is affecting us all, we are bombarded with ideas on how to recycle more, conserve energy and ensure that our carbon footprint remains at an acceptable size. Yet, what if you have ensured that you have all of your energy-saving lightbulbs at hand, your environmentally friendly shopping bag ever ready for action, your jars washed and ready for reusing and still feel at a loss on what to do next? What about doing some environmental volunteering projects?

There are a wide range of environmental volunteering projects around the UK suitable for a wide range of age groups, levels of commitment and experience. Using the example of the all-day projects at weekends ran by the BTCV, you will have to get to the meeting point for 10am and arrive back at 5pm. The project may sound daunting at first, but you only have to bring a packed lunch, plenty water, suitable clothing and footwear with the Project Leaders providing protective clothing, equipment and ensuring that you have enough to do and enough opportunities to get to know people and rest!

Still feel that 10 am is a bit too early? If you are lucky to live near a BCTV Green Gym, you can be able to exercise and flex your gardening muscles! Each class lasts for three hours including the usual aerobic warm-up and cool-down and instructions on how to use the tools. Whilst it is more remote and less frequent than the run-of-the-mill gyms in town, green gyms are free, less stressful and less repetitive than your average aerobics class. All of these exciting opportunities and I almost forgot to remind you lucky students of your local ‘Dirty Weekend’ society. These societies are affiliated with the BTCV and you can be sure that you will be doing something useful, if not your actual university work.

There are many benefits of helping the environment during the weekend. Like the horse riding last week, you get plenty exercise and the chance to get in touch with both nature and some like-minded individuals. Most importantly, this is much more rewarding. Think about your typical weekend. When you would normally bought some shoes, went on a date or managed to go to the gym instead of watching the Hollyoaks omnibus and consider that to be a good weekend, it would be nice to have a dirty weekend that would actually make you feel good.

(Published September 20 2007 on Dollymix)

One column in and Bridget Orr has decided to combine this week’s girly stereotype with a manly stereotype. This week, she introduces you to the slacker dude and his hard-working girlfriend…

Confession time: I’m a Film and Television student and I hate cinema. I hate it when a preposterous and ridiculous Michael Bay version of Transformers is deemed ‘not bad’ when it really should be on the level of the Bratz film when both are blatant toy advertisements. I hate those British films with Danny Dyer playing a hard done by Cockernee geezer who gets to indulge in his fantasies of thwarting those pesky personifications of political correctness gone mad.

But the thing about cinema that I hate the most? - the comedies where the ‘ugly’ slacker dude always getting the ‘pretty’ hard-working girl. Oh yeah, and the stereotype is rather irksome too.

Taking up where we left off with the girl overachiever last week, the pairing of the high-flying sensible beauty with the rather feckless schmuck has been used to illustrate many things. First of all, it illustrates the supposed magnetism of the average man in that he’s seen to be funnier, more sensitive and puts more effort in to the relationship than his better looking brethren and of course make the pretty woman less superficial and more attainable. Secondly, you could see the schmuck as the one who could curb the pretty high-flyer’s ways, making her less career-driven and more (shudder) feminine. Lastly, did I mention that it makes the average Joe look good?

Of course, while the slacker and high-flyer may seem like a subversive fantasy to oooh…the young men targeted by Knocked Up who moan about girls not liking nice men, there is something terribly conservative about the dynamic. The high-flyer and the slacker eventually grow old and turn into that other annoying stereotypical couple, the balding slob and the frustrated housewife. Men’s rights activists hate it because it’s clearly a conspiracy by those eeeevil wimmins who make out that men are useless and that the women are smarter. Feminists hate it because the balding slobs get to be funny and attractive and that the housewives have to be submissive and inappropriately fanciable too (see the Griffins from Family Guy). This couple are shown to persevere through their marriage for the sake of their kids if not themselves and everything always returns to the bickeringly normal equilibrium.

Most annoyingly of all, the stereotype is never seen to be gender-reversed. If someone told me that Jake Gyllenhaal was playing the romantic lead alongside a slightly homely female character actress, I would probably be stunned at the improbability of it all. The reaction would be less shocking if a) Gyllenhaal had to ‘ugly up’ to play the lead and b) the coupling was part of a rather depressing film set in an American trailer park. The ugly girl/pretty boy dynamic would never cut it in the wish-fulfilling world of contemporary Hollywood cinema - why would the geeky overgrown teenage boys in the film industry want to see mingers getting laid when they could delude themselves that hot girls fancy them really?

(Published September 19 2007 on Dollymix)

- Just ugh. And blurby. Mostly ugh.

- More bluuurghb.

- Bluuurghb.

Bridget Orr will not patronise the lovely Dollymix readers by assuming that the only things they do at the weekend is shop. If you happen to be a bored shopper, here is her first suggestion on how to get away from the monotony of the High Street.

In spite of the media misconceptions, horse riding is not just a sport for over-privileged pretty girls who used to own ponies called Princess. Honestly, even I ride. Even if the rates for lessons; the price of boots, breeches or jodhpurs, whips, chaps (and if necessary) helmets and even the cost of transport getting to your local stables sound exorbitant, think about what you would be spending on parking, lunch and impulse buying otherwise.

Still unconvinced? As well as being an obvious but unusual form of keeping fit, horse riding allows you to get out of the city, experience nature and the elements and bring back some excitement to your weekend. Try persuading your usual shopping buddies to your lessons allows for discounted group rates, fewer transport worries and a friendly camaraderie during lessons and hacks! Like myself, if you are one of those lucky Dollymix readers currently at university, your university should have their own riding club with discounted rates, possible riding excursions and holidays and frequent social and fundraising events.

For more information on taking up horse riding, the British Horse Society website provides links to approved riding schools and groups, and a directory of the best equestrian equpiment.

(Published September 12 2007 on Dollymix)

Dollymix contributor Bridget Orr is here to deconstruct portrayals of women in the media, and what lies beneath both new-fangled and traditional female stereotypes. This week, she wonders about the ‘girl overachiever’…

Calling someone an ‘overachiever’ is a bit of a backhanded compliment. Instead of appreciating someone’s academic or sporting success at face value, calling someone an overachiever seems to mock their achievements slightly. The impression of the overachiever is someone who spent lunchtimes in the chess club instead of hanging around the local shops indulging in Pot Noodles and sweets, and rubbed their intelligence in their classmates’ noses with English talks on Hannibal’s uprising against the Roman Empire (no really!).

They are the kind of people who get flustered about popular culture and the popular kids at school. Whilst life tries to teach the overachiever that a B or a 2.1 is okay just as long as they manage to socialise at the same time, they will not take any of it. Overachievers - they’re just not normal!

I apologise for that slight generalisation there and back to the deconstruction. More recently, the ‘overachiever’ has been associated with the image of the pretty blonde, presumably private-educated girl clutching her straight A A-Level results in hysterical op-ed articles about ‘exams getting easier’ and ‘the school curriculum getting more feminised’ in the Telegraph. Ironically, the Telegraph have reported on the growing problem of ‘superwoman’ syndrome where the struggles to be successful and thin are being coupled together in hothoused education environments. It appears that chess club membership is not enough for today’s overachieving girls – they have to be beautiful as well!

The Telegraph, in its portrayal of ‘superwoman syndrome’ appears to take slight umbrage at the examples of ‘superwomen’ that have achieved too much. Think about their naming of J.K. Rowling and Dame Kelly Holmes as ‘perfect women’. Fair enough, they have achieved money-spinning novel series and gold medals respectively, but their success was brought by years of hard work and false-starts that have contributed to constantly gradual success. Where fame and fortune is increasingly being sought more quickly and with less effort, surely J.K. and Kelly would end up in a Telegraph op-ed about ‘Are slow-burning superwomen becoming extinct?’

My main problem with the term ‘overachiever’ is that it hints that girls are achieving too much and should relinquish their ambitions, chill out and just be ‘normal’ girls. When coupled with the press reports about underachieving boys requiring more male role models in teaching and less girly books in school, the ‘girl overachiever’ is seen as a bossy, hard-nosed teacher’s pet beating all the boys in tests and getting strange looks from the girls. Bart and Lisa Simpson epitomise the binary of the popular underachieving boy and the geeky and unpopular overachieving girl.

Both overachievers and underachievers should not have to exist. Girls and boys alike should be okay with their strengths and failings, and should not have to be punished for deviating from the norm – whether being nagged about poor grades or peer pressure. At the same time, overachievers should not have to dumb themselves down to fit in or be bogged by pressure to be even better than they are. Surely they should be allowed to judge their own successes for a change?

(Published September 12 2007 on Dollymix)

I did the worst comedy ever. I feel like I never want to perform my brand of “comedy” again. I feel I really ought to do a lot more of my brand of “comedy” again so I can improve on it and make it even better and worth performing. I really don’t think I will improve on it. I only really did it for the free facial highlighter.

For a long time, I’ve not really been creating or communicating anything. It’s partly due to a combination of the feelings of rejection I get every time a pitch or a job application gets ignored or fails, and my own once admirable but now incredibly arrogant and counter-productive belief that creating anything isn’t worth doing when it’s not getting credited, that makes me not want to do it any more. I’m clearly not only not good enough for it, I tell myself, I’m also not good at being seen to be good enough at it too.

The “being seen to be really good at doing stuff” thing really puts me off too. I have a suspicion that the only voices that seem to be heard are the dynamic go-getters who always position themselves in the right side of the argument that they defined themselves and never switch off from being part of the debate. As I tried to make myself seem more informative and as part of a niche, someone already carved up what should have been my share. It was my fault for not being switched-on enough.

But I set myself a challenge to create something. And perform said something. And hope said something impressed a few people. And that said something could escalate into something bigger. So I applied for the Glasgow heat of Funny Women and wrote a five minute set that I performed tonight…and it wasn’t really that good.

I wanted to be myself throughout. I know I’m not a whip-smart and ebullient and can never misplace a word and has a really confident “stand-up comedy” voice that projects enough to the back of the arena. I know my material is not exactly one-liners and can be a little bit flat and mawkish compared to the others, but I thought I could let it develop into something.

So I tried to let it develop, and forgot that five minute slots pass a lot quicker when you’re hesitating during awkward “talk to the audience” bits and your legs are shaking, and you’ve just wasted time going over the wrong words, and through it all you can’t hear anyone in the audience laughing. Fuuuuu.

It’s the afterwards I’m worried about. I don’t know when the email comes through telling me the inevitable that there’s no such thing as a handicap for total comedic neophytes and that I will never make the semi-finals, but I know I will still be disappointed and disheartened in myself. I’ll never be able to take criticism well, no matter how much I want to learn from it. After reassuring the audience in my “routine” that I don’t want to be the baddie, I know my stubbornness will eventually cause me to be.

I wish I edited my planned routine, man.

(and this blog post surely? - you)

• All the selfies of me trying on clothes in changing rooms and making daft faces and poses in said clothes are on my phone, where they will remain.
• They will not be published on my plus-size fashion blog as I don’t have one. Especially considering when my former colleagues from a certain shop for the larger lady comment on how I’ve changed in the six/seven years since and my response inadvertently fat-shames the entire shop.
• I don’t have a bike, but I am looking for one (read: walking into a bike shop and getting all anxious about the racks and rows of frames).
• I am serious about the wanting to appear on Pointless and Only Connect thing.
• …and the Asperger Syndrome thing.

So aye, that’s me alright. There’s more of my in-depth writing up here and am spending a lot of time on here.

You might as well check out the rest of the interns here and make detailed notes. After all, I might be working with them soon.

The Courier – There’s something about Mhairi

 - YAAAAY.

Rookie » Literally the Worst Thing Ever: Picture Book of Saints

 - On the dark side of First Communion presents. How have I been sleeping on this?

Frightened Rabbit’s Scott Hutchison on the inhuman cheer of Mika’s “Love Today” | Music | HateSong | The A.V. Club

 - Big Girl, You Are Beautiful is still worse though.

Please Be Careful At Spin Class, Ladies! | Videogum

 - The only celebrities I seem to see at my gym are a couple of former River City actors and Greg Hemphill. This story reminds me that I should be lucky.

jezebelcom:

Much-needed disaster relief from the feline community.

(Image by our own Jim Cooke, who is awesome.)

Rookie » Attention, Internet: Dogs Are the Best

 - This (along with that documentary about the dogs on Hampstead Heath a week ago) makes me want to get a dog. But my cat wouldn’t allow it.

(via Runaway kitten takes shelter in bag of freshly-baked bread in Chorlton | Manchester Evening News - menmedia.co.uk)

 - In the absence of working thinking-and-then-tumblring faculties, here is a picture of a kitten on a bread roll. Please, find the kitten a good home.

 - Yessss. 

Fan fiction allows teenagers to explore their sexuality freely | Sam Wolfson | Comment is free | The Guardian

 - Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmm.

This is giving me horrible memories into my adventures in music fandoms on LiveJournal back in the day. Anyone wish me to elaborate further?

Things to Ban Instead of Commonly Banned Books | The Hairpin

- Hee.

laurasnapes:

It’s funny how quickly a prevailing message can change. During the Olympics, the victors came off the track, out of the pool, off the pommel horse and straight on-camera, where their message was uniformly: “You can do this too. Just work really flipping hard.”

Today is A-level results day in…

duckstapler:

you know i actually really hate that one tumblr post that was going around, the one that’s the analogy for depression where you slip in the hole and you never get out ever? i think it’s really fucking stupid and defeatist. feeling like there’s no way out is part of depression, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a way out. telling yourself “YES, my chemically imbalanced brain is correct and there’s no hope ever” is going to fuck you up something fierce dawg.

lifedeathtoptips:

The chronically misused “funky” here means “looking like you found it under a bus and then dropped a kebab down it”.

There are an amazing 20,000 of you following this blog. I’m going to celebrate by tie-dyeing my pants in marmalade. SO FUNKY.

Somebody actually try this!

badtvblog:

Wait till he hears Born This Way it’s gonna blow his mind.

guardianmusic:

A wonderful moment of unintentional slapstick (as mentioned on Shaun Keaveny’s 6 Music show this morning). CS 

Has reminded me of Peter Andre falling off stage when bleating about something, probably to do with Jordan:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqvdRNj9K8Q&feature=related

tomyhusband:

See how fucking annoying that is? Telling someone to relax NEVER WORKS.

Mmmmm….Mats Hummels. Now I’ve got your attention, here are some self-obsessed ramblings about being a bit depressed and anxious during televised sports season.

Spending the past fortnight watching the European Championships reminded me of school prizegivings. You know that moment when the starched-out Dux would thank all the teachers and mention just how really really excited he was to get a chance to watch the football, in a bid to make himself out to younger pupils that he was just like all the normal boys and girls who totally did not beat him up throughout the past five years and was not at all robotic and insincere? Well, eight years down the line, I suddenly got it.

It was lucky that my anxiety about going out and slight moodiness after work chimed with the matches. That scary networking event I attend a half-hour too early and leave before the interesting people turn up? The Netherlands might have a hilarious falling out on the pitch! That party where only a few people I know loosely might be there? I want to hear how the England supporters brass band mangle “Seven Nation Army”. All these moments to dress up and fix my hair and get out the house - all scuppered by the same excuse that you just know would be used by everyone else just as tired and uncertain as that year’s Dux.

I did get worked up though. There were times in front of the dining room television where I would almost go “WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!” during Poland v Czech Republic as I flitted from “shallow allegiance in honour of sister-in-law” to puzzled pondering of goal differences and mini-league results. From there, all my fears about messy conflicts, doubts clouding over potential shining moments and letting impulsive bad tempers in my day-to-day life were reflected and magnified. Mario Balotelli’s full-time tunnel shove-past just there was his generation’s version of “Me leaving work, not exactly sure that I’m on speaking terms with my big brother”.

It was an enjoyable diversion from the terrifying fears and delusions that would otherwise take over my thoughts, and I would totally include the footage of Fernando Torres’s children invading the pitch with the CBBC red button commentary in the “things to be thankful for today” list that I haven’t started yet. Though I’m not sure whether I might be free from the anxiety tomorrow, I hope there’s going to be a viral video of Iker Casillas kissing someone again.

In “actual news about my meds” matters: A bit shaky and dry-mouthy, but starting to get a bit more focused. 

The mind marvels at the sort of person desperate to tell everyone in the ladies lockers about her colleague’s husband hanging himself.

On the other hand, said mind would also marvel at a reddened she-hulk crying and apologising repeatedly for not being able to calm down as quickly as involuntary spectators would like. The she-hulk - who has had quite a few moments like these in recent years and in the past week has left work in tears - shouldn’t really have signed in at the gym reception fearing that she was going to be stuck in a hilarious nervous spectacle that would ruin all plans for the next few days.

Think of how you must look to other people! Think of how you just damaged the withering barrier between “contained outburst” and “could potentially slap that patronising woman in the face for breaking out the suicide thing”! Think of how many off-duty doctors just got called away from the cross-trainers because of you! God, woman.

Shamed into citalopram by an offline concern troll. It really should only get better than this.

This ought to be my lowest point, right?

slightbutpowerful:

“Being fat really worked out differently for guys than it did for girls, though, didn’t it? Like, if you’re a fat guy, people are just like, ‘Oh, he’s probably awesome to hang out with. Just eat chicken wings and high five all night!’ If you’re a fat girl people are just like, ‘Mmm, she’s probably sad.’ Why the different analysis? They eat the same snacks.” [x]

Cats Are Funnier than Dogs | Splitsider

 - The second footnote is the best.

Mr Speaker I yield the floor. I’m going to go look for that fan-fiction where I’m a vampire and I get to feed on bankers! (via Ceilidh’s review of Fifty Shades of Grey)

 - The best birthday present ever.

popfessions:

I started buying records, aged 9, in late 1977. I’d never knowingly heard The Beatles or the Sex Pistols: the former because my dad’s limited record collection was a typically West of Scotland brew of (mainly bad) country, the latter as he switched over to Radio 2 when they came on the chart…

Mount Florida once had a record shop?

Worst Church Singer Ever (by gothazedotcom1)

 - THAT’S ALL I’M DOING!

popfessions:

I liked early Westlife…

The wait is over!

I like that the Popfessions crew dug out a picture of Westlife where Shane’s jawline is not that pronounced.

EDIT: It is quite literally “early Westlife” (no Bry(i)an or Nicky, see?). AMAZING.