Look at me, I'm a proper columnist now!

For those of you who have the luck to be my friend on Facebook - and why wouldn't you want to be, my statuses are hilarious - you'll know that I became a proper writer today. Yes, I got published in the local paper with my own, weekly column. Largely, I'll be focusing on what students go through whilst living in Swansea. We get quite a bad rap, and I thought it was about time that I helped to redress the balance.

So for those of you unable to obtain today's copy of The South Wales Evening Post but who want to read it, I've written it up here, too. Don't say I don't ever treat you.

Look at it my way...

SWANSEA, we need to talk. I know that us students and the residents have had problems - we need to clean up after ourselves more, sometimes we get a bit noisy, occasionally we bring home the odd traffic cone in a cat-like act of affection - but honestly, I think we're good together.

Think of all the good times we've had together, don't you think they outweigh the bad?

We bring so much to the local economy and support jobs, we perform volunteer work within our communities, and through the university we provide sporting facilities, produce some of the best graduates in the country, and some of us are representing you at ward level on the local council. We're here for the long haul.

Please, let me explain. we love you, from the concrete jungle of the city to the outstanding natural beauty of the Gower, from the debauchery of Wind Street to the peace of the library. We love everything about you, but the way that you speak to us sometimes... It's like you forget that we're part of this city, too.
We aren't here to be difficult presences in your lives, we just want to be loved.

So please, let's try to work this out. The Union are working hard to help us be better residents. All we ask is a little more respect - take the time to meet us and talk to us when we move in. In turn, we'll be more conscious of you and be better neighbours.

If we do something wrong, take the time to explain and help us understand; we'll appreciate it much more.
Slip ups and accidents will always happen, but we can try our best to help reduce them.

I believe in this relationship, Swansea. I think we can make it work.

Fifty Shades of Dismay

If you've been to a supermarket or a book shop in the last month, you'll have noticed many middle-aged women acting strangely. They may have been clasping books to their chests, giggling with their friends or hiding something under their slightly less embarassing purchases of Tena Lady and concentrated prune juice. These ladies have been bewitched. Bewitched by a dreadful piece of 'literature' - or as I now refer to it, shiterature - that supposedly awakens the mind to all that they have been missing out in their boring, everyday lives.

Originally, Fifty Shades of Grey started life as Twilight fan fiction. You hear that? Twilight. Sparkly vampires who like to assert their dominance over girls a couple of hundred years younger than them. One of the worst series of books and films in the world has influenced yet another series. The circle of life is strong in this one.

The author sets out the tale of Anastasia Steele, a seemingly-feeble, gentle minded student, who is sent to interview the infamous Christian Grey after her friend falls ill and is unable to do it herself. How convenient. As Ana conducts the interview, she becomes of some kind of 'spark' between them. Oh how I wish it had been the kind of spark that they warn you about when you use your mobile phone at a petrol station - at least the story would have finished there. Mr Grey then decides to stalk the poor girl for all she is worth just to see her again. Conveniently, Ana works at a hardware store where Christian decides to pick up some rope and cable ties for some 'DIY'. How delightfully obvious. Despite the fact that cable ties are not appropriate for any type of sexual intercourse, I would have been far more impressed had he also picked up some caustic soda and perhaps a new broom at the same time. Domesticity is sexy. Nothing makes me happier than a man with a plunger.

As the story progresses, we see how Ana starts to fall for the man who describes himself as 'fifty shades of fucked up'. Lovely. However, there is a problem! Ana, lovely, gentle, sweet Ana who likes British literature and English tea is a virgin! Now, aside from the fact that the author seems to be linking Britishness to how much of a prude Ana is at this point of the tale, I was also slightly annoyed at how she makes Christian react to her admission. A 21 year old virgin is not the end of the world, and it's certainly not something to be shocked at. I know it probably shouldn't have irked me as much, but it just astounds me that more people haven't raised this point.

Later, the writing takes yet another turn for the worse. Mr Grey seems to forget to go to work, seemingly chasing his interest around the entire country and flashing the cash wherever he goes. Ana is bought a Mac, an Audi, a Blackberry... Is there any high profile company that hasn't been discussed in this book? The author is one step away from describing a party full of high profile officials with a waiter clutching a golden plate of foil-wrapped nut-based chocolates. Although she declares her anger at seemingly being paid for sex, Ana decides to hang onto her presents; hasn't she heard of ebay?

Unsurprisingly, Ana decides that she wants more from Christian, despite the fact that he is an emotionally destructive, aggressive and seemingly slightly psychotic specimen .Even when he has beaten fifty shades of dignity out of our protagonist with his apparently 'exotic' range of items - all of which can be obtained from Ann Summers, so nothing that exciting - and she has been confronted with a contract, whereby she must agree never to tell anyone about their activities or about him. Not that keeping away is possible, what with the fact that he turns up wherever she may be thanks to his collection of fast cars, his private jet, a helicopter and, what's that? Oh yeah, his mobile phone tracking software. How romantic. Is this yet another half-arsed attempt at that old argument that girls are unable to keep a check on their emotions and can't be trusted where men are involved? Oh tell me another one, I'm bored of this old tale.

Perhaps what riles me most (and oh God I hope my mother isn't reading this. If so, hi mum! Tea, two sugars, two PROPER sugars, none of this hoping I won't notice if you leave half of it out) is the unrealistic way in which their sexual adventures are mapped out. I don't know teenagers who couldn't even manage it as much as they could, and the vast majority of teenage boys are more unstoppable than the Duracell bunny. The writing suggests that they have absolutely perfect sex, every single time. That doesn't happen. In reality there's always a funny noise or a face that makes you giggle, and no one has as good a time as Ana seems to. At least, I hope not, or I'm doing it totally wrong.

I know that writing a scathing review of this book is the 'in' thing to do, but I honestly have problems with this book. It is sexist, seemingly ignoring the last fifty years of feminism's growth in society, and it is just bizarre. Much could be said for the overwhelming number of commas that E L James feels is appropriate for a sentence, too.

Essentially, Fifty Shades of Grey is just sex with supplies from B&Q, with an airy fairy female protagonist who is seemingly out of her depth with a man more suited to Broadmoor than... Well, anywhere.

Give me Pride and Prejudice any day. I don't think Mr Darcy's the whips and paddles type..

How to survive a festival.

I have always loathed camping. I have never seen the point in paying to sit in a miniature house made of nylon in a muddy field while it chucks it down outside. I enjoy having built in plumbing and central heating that make it unnecessary to have to go outside when you want a wee.
So for some ridiculous reason, I decided to go to a festival this year – Beach Break. I was excited to try slumming it for the first time in my life whilst getting to see some of my favourite musical acts. I wanted to see what it was like to be with a group of like-minded individuals, all there to enjoy themselves and soak up the atmosphere. 

I first knew something was going to go wrong about a fortnight before. The weather forecasts were dire. My best friend had pulled out weeks before, and usually optimistic, even she was laughing at the misfortune that was about to occur: “lol, it’s gonna piss down and you’re gonna be wet and cold and you won’t be able to dry off and you’ll be miserable.” Thanks, babes.

Then I realised the sheer amount of stuff I was going to need, which meant the others would need just as much. After this, I remembered the size of the tent, and I was worried. However, I was totally optimistic and looking forward to it until I saw the state of the portaloos after only one afternoon. Good God, some of you creatures are revolting. That said, it could have been worse. I could have gone to the Isle of Wight festival. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh, sorry. I mean, I hope you had a lovely time, regardless.

So it is with my experience that I realise I must bring to the masses a survival guide of sorts - a list of hints and tips that will make your life more enjoyable whilst you’re sat in a pool of mud, crying for your mummy to come and bring you home.

1. Get a good tent. A very good tent. The best you can afford. You’re going to be spending a lot of time in that when you’re unwilling to go out in the torrential rain. Make sure that you’re able to put it together properly before you get there, too. A practice run or two will help wonderfully. Make sure you always get a tent that has room for one more person than you actually have in your party – you never know, you may meet someone. Or you might just want some room for your bags as well.
   
2. Do not pack your entire life into your suitcases. You aren’t at home, nobody cares how crap you look and that you haven’t washed your hair in three days. Embrace looking terrible and wearing the same clothes for four days!
   
3. On this point, baby wipes. Buy ALL the baby wipes you can find. You’ll need them. Oh, and earplugs, because nobody needs to be kept awake by the next tent constantly shouting "ain't nobody got time for that!". Ain't nobody got time for that.
   
4. With the space that you save in your bag by not having clean pants in there, you can take extra alcohol and bacon based products. These are the two things that you’ll miss most, I promise you.
   
5. Leave your good standards at home. Once you’ve seen the state of the toilets you’ll have forgotten what being toilet trained and having a sense of decorum is like. I’ve seen some terrible sights – if you’re the girl who decided to just go for a wee in the middle of the queue for the toilets, or the girl who decided she needed to remove her tampon right outside one of the tents, well, hello to you!
   
6. Eat something strange every day. The most exciting thing I had was a pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw and barbecue sauce. I dream about that thing. Best life choice ever. Thanks be to Becca Taylor for having introduced me to that school bus eatery of dreams.
   
7. Make sure that all of your clothes are waterproof. Do not wear jeans. Do not wear hoodies. If they get wet, they will never get dry again. Remember, you are waterproof, so maybe being perpetually naked is the best way forward.
   
8. Also, don't take a onesie. Everyone takes them, and do you really want to turn up in the same outfit as everyone else? No.
   
9. Don't listen to your friend who comes over for drinks the night before who shares the exact same view of camping as you. It won't make you feel any better about it, no matter how much of someone else's vodka you drink.
   
10. I can only hope that some of you will take my advice. Remember, the second you get home, you are going to fall onto your bed, and you are going to immediately pass out for the next three days. You will be exhausted and you will reek. It will however, be completely worth it.

I’ve signed up for Glastonbury next year. I've already sourced myself a dry suit and a snorkel for the occasion.

Get on yer bike!

I have previously written on the joys of being a valleys girl. However, I feel that it is time to draw attention to the major drawback of living in this environment.

It is no secret that South Wales has an issue with unemployment. Ever since the closure of the mines and associated factories, the valleys have been in a steady rate of decline, which has only been aided in part by public sector jobs moving here, and special measures brought in by the government to persuade businesses here. However, these measures have always fallen short of how much work really needs to be done in these areas – something akin to putting a plaster on the wound that you’ve just received from a hungry tiger who’s taken your leg off.

                               I am unemployment tiger, hear me roar!

For the people that live here, this means one of three things. You either grow up here, realise that you need to find something better, and you move away – starving the local community of the talent and ingenuity that it needs to get itself out of this black hole. Scenario two is that you get lucky, you find yourself a reasonable secure job, and you stay here. Alternatively, you stay where you are, but you don’t get that lucky break, and you are condemned to a life of being called a scrounge and scum because you have no other way to survive other than being on benefits. This in turn creates a vicious cycle of entire families who don’t work, and depend on the state to survive. I know that I paint a picture of people who are victims of circumstance, but for the majority of those on benefits, I do truly believe this to be the case, despite also knowing that there are some people who readily accept this lifestyle. However, this then brings about the argument that if you knew you were better off on benefits, with the freedom and security of having your housing paid for, being able to bring up your children yourself without having to depend on maybe getting a childcare place paid for whilst you go to work at all hours… Well, you can argue that it’s not morally right until you’re blue in the face, but you can see why it appeals to many. 

So with this in mind, you must also realise the difficulties for many in the valleys to just get on their metaphorical employment seeking bicycles and get a job.

Firstly, there is the issue of transportation. I’m lucky – my mother and I scraped up enough money for me to take driving lessons, get through the dreaded test of terror, and be on the car insurance, thus allowing me to drive around whenever I like. For many, this isn’t the case. The prohibitive costs of lessons, never mind insurance, a car, tax, and petrol stop many people from being able to do this. Remember also that many of us do not have the luxury of a choice of petrol stations that will fight over each other to be the cheapest – some of us only have access to one that will charge more as a result. In turn, this leads to the problem of distance, which in turn, leads to costs, again.

        Generic petrol pumps. Just in case you really didn't know.

Public transport isn’t even a haven from this. From here to the next town (around 5 miles away), it costs £7 or so for an adult return ticket. The issue of transportation is not specific to the valleys, but it does make life significantly harder, and in turn, makes it more difficult to be able to accept jobs – and that’s even if you can get to the interview.

 Secondly, there really is a lack of jobs here. There have been multiple factory closures here as businesses move abroad to find a cheaper workforce. Public sector job cuts have hit hard. Spending power has decreased as more people are made unemployed, in an area where people are more likely to be out of work anyway.  In turn, yet more businesses collapse, and the circle goes round again. Companies who used to offer full time contracts are now offering part-time, and ‘flexible’ contracts, making life for those who depend on the wages of full time work, or those with responsibilities more difficult. Incidentally, many companies will no longer accept people on contracts more than 16 hours per week, as those who work this amount of time are eligible for government provided tax credits, boosting the employees’ income. If the state will pay, why should the company?

I’m lucky. I get to go back to university in a few months, but it is my final year, and finding a job afterwards is of huge concern. I don’t want to have to leave my family and friends behind, but if I want to survive, that’s what I’m going to have to do. This post isn’t about lecturing people, but it is about informing you. I can’t bear to stand back and have people say “well can’t you find a job?” It’s not that easy, and there are a lot of people around here who can tell you exactly the same thing as I just have.