A Letter to a Train Ticket

The fortnight in a list:
- We didn't get a white Christmas
- We got a wet Christmas
- And a wet Christmas Eve
- And a wet Boxing Day
- And a wet New Year's Eve
- And a wet New Year's Day
- Do you sense a theme here.
- A horrific car crash kills two kids on the motorway
- 2013 happens.

I would do the year in news but A) I can't remember and B) Charlie Brooker does it so much better in Charlie Brooker's 2012 Wipe (Brits - look it up on iPlayer. Rest of the World - go find a streaming link or something)

Before I start my post properly, I'd just like to say that I discovered "Google Stats". Now, because I still use Internet Explorer (and also because Blogger is the most user-unfriendly site ever) I don't venture to the Blogger site often, and I email my posts through to noiwouldnotlikesometea. However about a week ago, I decided to log in just to check that everything was hunky-dory. This was when I found the "Google Stats" thingy. It tells me how many page views I get, when and where. I discovered with this that I get a lot (and I mean a lot) of views from Russia. How exactly did this happen? Most of my babbling is either barely making sense or vaguely political, and I can't help but wonder why exactly it is so appealing. Please, put me out of my misery. Even this week, I have 8 page views from Russia, and only one from the UK (and that was most likely me in the last few minutes). If you happen to live in Russia, tell me why you read my blog.

Onto the second little bit before I start my post properly, this is just a little bit of background. I came back from Wales the other day, on the train (first class!). On one of the three trains I would take that day, I happened to slouch in my chair and notice, underneath the table and in the chair opposite was a train ticket. I'm a bit weird and like to collect train tickets, so I picked it up. Then, being the wax-lyrical person I am, I started to think of the person who bought the ticket. It wasn't a ticket per se, just a receipt announcing somebody had bought tickets. This fortnight, I've decided to write a letter to this unknown person.

Dear Ticketholder,

I notice you do not pay much attention to your accounts, otherwise you would've taken this ticket receipt. Maybe it was just an accident, and you're now sat at home worrying. I highly doubt this, your ticket cost £2.

Where can you go for £2? I was sat in the first class section, so you must have been too. Where can you go, first class, for £2? You bought with a Visa card, and few under-16's wander around with a card as the only source of money, so I can only assume you're an adult. You must've only gone one or two stops. Was it a journey to work? I wouldn't suppose it would be, otherwise you would probably by a season ticket. Just a day out shopping, perhaps? Or did you go to visit a friend?

What's funny is the fact you bought this ticket on the 30th December at 19;41. I traveled up to Wales on the 30th, and I would have been travelling at the same time as you. This is what always astounds me about the world. How we can all go about our own lives without any direct contact with one another. There are many things that we have in common: We both took a train at that time, we both held a ticket for the train, we both travelled on First Great Western service. And yet we possibly have many things that are different, if only we knew each other.

I think of all the places you could be going, and then I realise all I wish is that you got there in the end.

Waiting for Doomsday

It's the fortnightly round-up!
- A woman goes missing with her son because apparently the possibility of a few lost IQ points is worse than the possibility of him dying in the next few months.
- Shitstorm at the BBC enters it's next month
- Shitstorm at the Met Police
- Britain floods.
- Typhoon in Philippines
- Guns and primary schools do not mix
- The world almost ends
- I drown in christmas quizzes
- I win money for no real reason

This post has to be about the end of the world. Anything else would just look weird.

It's always curious, the end of the world. Just think, an entire planet just disappearing.
It's much like the notion of death. Just... ending in such a way.

I heard quite a few theories about what would happen. Zombie apocalypse sounds like good fun in theory, but I don't you'll be saying that when night falls and you're curled up in an abandoned house, freezing cold and hungry, hiding from your dear beloved Nan. Also, it's bloody difficult to get a good swing on a blunt weapon to ward the zombies off.
Epic flooding of lands? Yes, you'd probably look awesome stood on a raft with your face to the wind, but your socks would be wet. All the time. You would be cold from the fact your clothes are wet. All the time. Your hair would be full of salt. All the time.
Insane inferno? Efficient. We'd all die from smoke inhalation very quickly.
Yellowstone? Too slow.
Asteriod? Again, fairly efficient. Especially since a scientist would wise on very quickly, the media would find out and people who begin to pack up their things and try and get out of their town as soon as possible. Not sure why, we'd all be dead anyway.
Time repeats and we just relive the 21st over and over? Well, surely someone would con on at last and we'd just start recounting time again. Which as I understand it, is roughly how the Mayans worked.

Of course, the end of the world could have already happened, and we could have died on the stroke of midnight. The afterlife may just be us assuming a continuation of our life, and everything supposedly continues as normal.

I'll leave that for you to ponder.
See you in a fortnight.

Kew Gardens

Fortnight at a glance:
- The Autumn Statement was announced and basically everybody's fucked
- Something really unimportant happens re the Royal Family
- The Leveson Inquiry result was announced and Cameron has decided to ignore... all of it
- Looks like the entire BBC should have been renamed "House of Peodophiles" in the 70's according to the tabloids
- No-one communicates in my potential sixth form and so I have to endure weeks of stress.


Today, I traveled to Kew Gardens as part of my Art BTEC. My sub-topic was Buildings and Structures, and so I visited the Treetop Walkway, the Pagoda, the Palm House, the Princess of Wales Conservatory and the Alpine House. We didn't have much time, so I saw (but didn't enter) the Temperate House.



See you in a fortnight.

Alpine House





Treetop Walkway

Temperate House

The Pagoda

Palm House



Princess of Wales Conservatory



Rules of the Television

Fortnightly round-up:
- Gaza and Israel have serious shit to sort out
- Newsnight have a complete balls-up
- Lord McAlpine plans to sue the world
- George Entwistle loses it and still gets away with £450,000
- Abu Qatada sticks two fingers up at Britain, yet again

This time, I shall talk about rules of the television. Things that shall happen, no question.
Trust me on this.

-- Before the Credits rule (Or the "first-60-seconds" rule)
With the exception of pilots, any new character introduced either before the credits or in the first 60 seconds of a tv show will be murdered.
Sometimes they're already dead, proving that writers know that we're not stupid.

-- Anybody Can Handle a Firearm rule
Unless convenient to the plot, anybody (from small children to near-death elderly) can shoot any kind of gun at anyone and not miss. Ever.

-- No Inter-gender Friendships rule
If a male and female appear with one another on screen, they will fall in love. And sleep together. And then have a big argument. And then it's awkward until they die.

-- Death is Never Permanent rule
Found in sci-fi and fantasy shows, anyone who dies too easily (or are in the named cast) will never stay dead. A thousand and one things, varying from vaguely sane to seriously out there will bring them back to life. See: Supernatural

-- Cast are Never in Danger rule
Mostly relating to LOST, in which "48" people survive, although for some reason only about twelve seem to be around. This does mean, of course, when the health of the survivors is threatened, no-one interesting will die. Until 36 of the uninteresting characters die, then we're in trouble.

-- Home Alone rule
If a person is alone in the house, a strange noise will happen at night. The person will go investigate it. They will probably end up dead.

-- Let's Split Up! rule
A noise sounds late at night in a forest/haunted house/large establishment. An initially large group decide to split up. The least interesting of the group will die. They will generally be a woman. (more common in films)

The Strange Thing about History

Dear lord, I am tired.
So, as a result I've googled one of my favourite things to eat and I'm pasting a recipe for it (link below).

See you in a fortnight, when maybe I will bring you what was actually meant to go below this title.


Swedish Meatballs with Ligonberry/Cranberry Sauce
Lingonberry or Cranberry Sauce

500 g lingonberries or 500 g cranberries
1 lemons, juice and zest of, finely grated
150 g caster sugar

Swedish Meatballs

50 g butter
1 onions, peeled and very finely diced
2 teaspoons allspice
100 g fresh brown breadcrumbs
150 ml milk
1/2 kg fresh minced beef
1/2 kg fresh ground pork
1 eggs, beaten
salt
pepper
2 tablespoons sunflower oil
2 tablespoons flour
400 ml beef stock
200 g sour cream or 200 g creme fraiche
4 tablespoons finely chopped fresh dill
Directions
To make the sauce, put the lingonberries or cranberries into a heavy bottomed saucepan with about 100 to 120 mls of water, the lemon juice and zest & bring to the boil.

Then turn the heat down to a gentle simmer and cook for 10 to 15 minutes. As soon as the berries have started to burst - add the caster sugar and cook until the sugar has completely dissolved.

Take off the heat and allow to cool. Check for sweetness, if it is too sour, add more sugar to taste and cook until dissolved. To make the meatballs, first melt a little of the butter in a frying pan and add the finely chopped onion - sauté until soft & then add the allspice.

Soak the breadcrumbs in the milk - until the milk has been absorbed, about 30 to 45 minutes. Mix the fried onion in with the soaked bread and then add the meat and beaten egg, season and mix well.

Dampen your hands and form the mixture into balls about the size of large walnuts.

Heat half of the remaining butter with half of the oil and fry the meatballs in batches - until they are golden brown in colour and hold their shape.

Allow to meatballs to cool slightly.

Heat up the remaining butter and oil in the pan and add the flour - cooking over a low heat until the flour is golden and sandy in appearance (like a roux base).

Take the pan off the heat and gradually add the beef stock, stirring and blending well after each addition. Put the pan back on the heat and bring to the boil - then add the sour cream (creme fraiche). Turn the heat down and add the meatballs - cover and cook over a low heat for about 15 to 20 minutes, until the sauce has thickened.

Check and adjust the seasoning before adding the chopped dill to the meatball and sauce mixture.

Serve with the Lingonberry or Cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes or broad ribbon noodles

http://www.food.com/recipe/swedish-meatballs-with-lingonberry-or-cranberry-sauce-235024

Your Opinion is Irrelevant

In the news this fortnight:
- A crazy Austrian does crazy Austrian things
- One million people tuned in to see Felix Baumgar-whatsit go splat on his landing to Earth (seriously - when his parachute opened safely, one million people stopped watching)
- A man goes and hits multiple people in an area of Cardiff I used to live near.
- A car bomb goes off in Syria, and people in Lebanon worry that the war could spill over to their country.
- Flooding happens on flood planes
- Half of the BBC may be taken out by Jimmy Savile alone
- Syria begin a ceasefire
- Berlusconi is sentenced to four years for tax fraud
- Complaints continue about GCSEs
- I finally choose my A-levels
- I have roughly a term to get my Maths grade up otherwise they may not let me into Physics and Maths A-level

Today, I'm talking about the vote at 16.

As Scotland want to do the independence referendum including 16-year olds, re-igniting the debate over whether or not the vote should be lowered to 16-year olds. As I will be just under 18 when the next general election rolls around, I'm naturally a big supporter of this.

I hear one argument that nobody under 18 would vote, yet a quick scan of two polls* indicate that turnout among the 18-24's is actually increasing from 2001 (31% turnout in 2001, 44% in 2010). Admittedly, this is still older than their elder counterparts, but looking at the trend it could be that the 16-18 year-olds would have a roughly 40% turnout. And I don't have a confirmation on this, but there's every possibility that the first time around could garner an interest in some 16/17 year-olds as wanting to vote in the "first one".

Another argument is "16-year olds are too immature". I remember one anecdote saying that a "19-year old said to me that she'd vote for Boris Johnson because she finds him funny". The thing is, these aren't the people who will actually bother to vote in the long run. Or, they'll turn up to the polling station, see the long queues, and bugger off again. The people who would vote, however, are people like my friend and I. While in Switzerland, we ended up discussing the merits of the Eurozone (I'm anti, she's pro). It's alright for her, she'll be old enough to vote when the time comes around.

There's also the fact that 16-year olds pay taxes to consider. Sometimes, the government's one-sided thinking amuses me. They believe that we're mature enough to pay taxes, to make a contribution to society. But we're not mature enough to have a say in who we think should run the country, who should represent our beliefs, who should speak for us.

Like everything, it's ultimately politics. No government wants to be the government who lost power because they gave the 16 year olds the vote. And keeping them quiet is ultimately the only way they can continue.
 
*Sources:
http://www.idea.int/vt/by_age.cfm (26 Oct '12)
http://www.ipsos-mori.com/researchpublications/researcharchive/poll.aspx?oItemId=2613&view=wide (26 Oct '12)

O television, O television, wherefore doth thou break my heart into a million little pieces whilst cackling?

Fortnightly round-up:
- Exam boards allow students whose dreams were crushed to retake English exams.
- A little girl goes missing in mid-Wales, and a man is charged with her murder.
- They finally manage to get the runaway maths teacher home
- Tensions in Syria/Turkey grow
- Spain are splitting apart at the seams
- And again with Greece
- Jimmy Saville is apparently not a tv legend but a rapist.
- The Conservatives say something unimportant
- They want to build another airport in the South East, thus possibly increasing my choice of airports within two hours to six.
- I go to CERN and begin to seriously doubt my potential A-level choices
- I check out a sixth form's prospectus and seriously doubt my potential sixth form
- I gain my very first A*
- I go to Switzerland (hence, CERN) and discover my slight fear of plane landings.

Although today, my topic of conversation today is television. See, I do have fun alongside all my complaining!

Well, no. I'm going to complain really.

Currently, I'm "watching" Firefly, which was cancelled after fourteen episodes. I put 'watching' in inverted commas because I'm avoiding the last episode. After watching the first thirteen episodes, I have grown so attached to the show that I cannot bear to watch the final episode and say goodbye to it. It shall, in short, break my heart.
Not that Firefly hasn't already done so. While watching Out of Gas (episode eight), I sobbed to the point of hyperventilating*. I have also been known to require a good half-hour to calm down after certain scenes.

Maybe I'm just susceptible to sobbing, but this isn't the first time I've sobbed uncontrollably at a TV show. I'll make a list (I like lists).
-- Chuck (season 1, episode 8)
-- Scrubs (more than I should for a comedy)
-- Doctor Who (like, every episode)
-- Supernatural
-- The Hour

I've also gone incredibly weak at the knees for both Lilyhammer and Borgen.

Do show writers enjoy watching our down-hearted tweets, generally in block capitals and saying "MY HEART </3 D:"?
Certainly, it does make for a better show.

I suppose it is my fault, really. It is a habit of mine, as is most people when they love a show, to get very included in the world. Hell, there are fanfictions that are many hundreds of thousands words long. And then the show will end, or be cancelled, or be forced into a very abrupt demise, leading to the destruction of any happy emotion I may feel for the next few days.

I'll watch Firefly tonight, I promise.