Berlin, JA

Hello there,
if you know me (which hopefully for your sake you do not) you will know that I arrived back in blighty after spending a large part of my year in Berlin (4 days).
It is the best city ever and I really think everyone should go because I had so much fun and you should go and have fun too..

  We arrived pretty late at our hostel which was at warschauer strasse (which according to wikipedia, is in friedrichstan) we asked the waiter what beer to get and we got one called paulaner which was delicious. If you've ever had Leffe it tastes a bit like that bit more smooth.

 Then we met some Germans, the one above was called Niccolo and the one below was called Olly. They were German.

We went to a bar called Astros which was about a 15 minute walk from our hostel and they played AMAZING music such as NEURAL MILK HOTEL, PIXIES and Dolly Parton. Also: Abracadabra by the Steve Millers Band. Plus CHEAP BEER!

There was a creepy rastafarian German man who kept trying to set my unfairly beautiful friend Becka and I's hair on fire. He did let Becka try on his hat, though. 

TUESDAY ! 

We got up really early to go sight-seeing and do touristy stuff the next day. Here is the back of Becka's head. Our first stop was the East Side Gallery - which is the longest surviving stretch of the Berlin wall. It's covered in amazing murals and stuff, AS I'LL SHOW YOU NOW.

Over the road is (I believe) the Berlin equivalent of the o2 arena and some people were taking photos of themselves standing outside it. Which is a bit odd when the Berlin wall is OPPOSITE it. Anyway - beep beep

We then went for the most delicious cappuccino in Friedrichstrasse  I have ever had in my entire life. 

NEXT STOP: FILM MUSEUM

We weren't allowed to take photos inside the museum but it was really awesome and well worth a visit. Plus: a Scorsese exhibition at the moment featuring the EXACT letters Travis Bickle sends to Iris and his parents in 'Taxi Driver' I geeked out so hard. also: Leonardo Di Caprio's costume from Gangs of New York which is ridiculous because it turns out he's really tall. I always imagined him to be a little prawn.

By this time, I had a severe case of hungry belly so we went to a deli across the road (I believe this is a chain because they were everywhere) The food was a solid 7/10 (bread a bit stiff)

This photo is fuzzy but I DON'T CARE LOOK AT THE GOD DAMN CAKES!

We stopped off on our way to the Reichstag (we were having tea with Angela Merkel) at the Jewish memorial. I didn't take many pictures (I took one). So here you go:

 Berlin is full of over-confident, chubby birds. These ones just FLEW into a Dunkin' Donuts!

After this, we went back to our hostel and freshened up before drinking some wine (1.99euro for a litre hooray!) and going out for a traditional German meal* and cocktails with my cousin and her friends. (I had a chicken burger).

I didn't take any photos of the evening - so you can all use your imagination.

NEXT POST WILL BE ALL ABOUT THE ZOO AND THE ANGRY GORILLA THAT RESIDES THERE.

*it was actually mexican food.

life update AGAIN and sorry for being shite

I remember when I would post a new blog I'd get HUNDREDS (well, one or two) tweets at me congratulating me on how much of an excellent human being I am and how HILARIOUS my blogs are.

I miss this, I really do - my ego cries every day over the lack of compliments I get - but to tell you the truth I've become really disinterested with catsandknitting and the whole blogging lark - you can call it 'uninspired' or 'writers block' (pretty severe writers block, seeing as I haven't done a blog since June or whatever, heyho).

I really hate it when blogs and 'bloggers' (I hate the term) write posts saying sorry for the lack of posts - but I'm just really bored with the whole thing. I think it's obvious when you read back through my posts that they became a lot less funny and a lot more... forced the more recent they get.
I started opening up 'new post' and just staring at it with nothing to say or type - I used to be able to type up a blog in around 10 minutes but the more recent ones started taking days, with endless tweaking and "arg, i'm not happy with this"-ness...

I'll pick up again one day, but for now you can follow me on twitter here  or behind the bins where I live.. I dunno, whatever floats ya boat.

STAY SAFE, THANKS FOR READING AND SEE YOU SOON XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

How to have the most rad Jubilee weekend in the history of EVER

It is the Queen's diamond Jubilee this weekend. We have FOUR days off to sit around, drinking champagne and only eating things that are either red, white or blue.
What many of you will be wondering is how to make the most of this weekend without insulting our precious royals by vomiting at a street party or forgetting the words to God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols (her favourite).
Here is a handy, step by step guide to make the most of our SPECIAL weekend

Only eat food that is either red, white or blue

Try doing this with drinks too. This means a weekend of drinking milk, WKD and cranberry juice and eating nothing but curries, snow and smurf meat. Your belly may ache, but this is for Queen and country. She may even send you a letter congratulating you on your pain - (she won't) and you can sell the letter on eBay and make a sweet, sweet dollar.

Also, if you're welsh - it is totally okay to eat dragons too. So long as they don't eat you first.

Emulate Prince Phillip by being a a bit racist.

• Sit outside a Nigerian community centre, laugh and say something like "Have you all just been sleeping?"
• Go up to all attractive women you see and suggest that if you were to sexually assault her, you'd get arrested.
• Ask an Aborigine if they throw spears at each other.

& enjoy everybody loving you because of your amazing sense of humor.

Get a pet lizard

I know that the above picture has a dinosaur in, but everyone knows dinosaurs aren't real and that they were planted by Satan to tempt people into heracy.

Anyway, to really capture the jubilee spirit - buy one of her cousins from your local exotic pet shop. Call it Henry, Edward or George if it's a boy or Katherine, Mary or Kimberlee if it's a girl.

Give it a tiny crown and let it marry it's cousins. Watch a small empire grow in your bedroom. TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

Do your own flotilla

How to be a journalist

I'm now almost a YEAR into a degree in journalism and so far I've picked up some MENTAL tips. Honestly, I'm now pretty much so pro at this journalism thing y'all can call me Holly Journalist Stewart, opposed to my old nickname of 'ballbag'. Seriously.

(not really). 

ANYWAY, the year or so of my degree has been an introduction thing - so here is what I have learnt, so far.

The 5 Ws

 

At school, you may have been taught these 5 Ws as being who, what, where, when and why - that all changes when you get to DEGREE JOURNALISM.

Ha, not really.

People dying is really shit

We had an entire lecture on how not to be a dick to dead people. It was so sobering. I really don't ever want to work with dead people or their families - as bad as that sounds. I'm a pretty awkward person and I'd probably say something like "what're you having for dinner" when all they want to talk about is their dead relative - I think I'll stick with writing about things I know about (like dinner and watching Doctor Who repeats on 'Watch')

Lunatics want to talk, normal people don't

You're in a busy high street with a camera kit set up. Boom mic at the ready, you need to get some vox pops on what people think of the current voting system.

 A man walks by, he looks well dressed - he has a briefcase and all his own teeth. "No thanks, I'm busy" he says.

A woman comes bouncing up to you in a tin foil hat, clutching a copy of 'UFO WEEKLY'! You turn your camera on, fiddle with the audio levels and press record.

"I don't know what a voting system is" She says, blankly.

You stop recording.

Saying that you're a student journalist is the worst thing ever

I mean, the WORST. People treat you like you're thick as mince and assume that you're desperate to talk about tuition fees. "Oh! You're a student are you! Fancy those fees ay?"

For a while I toyed with saying "I'm a freelance based in Kent" but I got a couple of smirks from older people who probably looked at my baby face, wide-eyes and 5ft height and presumed I was a deluded ALevel student with dreams of being the new Caitlin Moran.

a - z of me

A is for apples! I ate one today
B is for BASTARD! The word I say everytime I sneeze! (I'm not joking)
C is for cats! I have a cat!
D is for Denmark! I know someone from Denmark!
E is for eggs! I was once sick after seeing an egg smash!
F is for Frankie from The Saturdays!!
G is for GIRL - I am a girl!
H is for HOLLY my NAME
I is for TEAM
J is for jam! I think jam is nice on toast
K is for KING OF THE WORLD (me)
L is for Liza Minnelli who I AM

I dont know da rst ov da alphabet

what i learnt from watching football

• not much

why growing up is a LIE

I'm old now. Proper old.
I went to the opticians earlier for an eyetest and I had to pay. No more free drugs and getting my mum to buy me glasses from the 'teen' section.. I got my card out and I paid. Like a woman.
Growing up isn't anything like films and tv taught me. At age 9 I genuinely thought that being 16 would be amazing, I'd go to parties and sip J20 in glittery hair mascara and black velvet flares (early 00s).
It wasn't. In fact I was wearing jeans about 3 sizes too small, my hair was the colour of a crunchy-nut cornflake and my main topic of conversation was how much I loved The View. (DREAMBOAT)
Here are some more things that are LIES.

Handbags

I used to be in awe of my mum's handbags. I used to dream of the day I was old enough to have stuff to put in mine.
But they're lying, handbags aren't fun they're bloody annoying, I mean -they're BEAUTIFUL but heavy and awkward to carry. and if you're walking around Gillingham after 6pm they're also terrifying. (note to self: stop clutching onto your bag and trembling)
I had a pink wicker bag with big orange daisies on when I was about 7. I wanted to be a woman so I asked my mum what to keep in it. She gave me some old receipts and a stick of chewing gum. I put the bag on my chubby wrist and swanned around my house as though I was a princess.
What do I keep in mine now?

• bank card
• costa card
• passport
• railcard
• moonshine
• used train tickets
• hair serum
• lipstick
• student ID
• an elf
• mirror
• 439 receipts
• a rainbow
• 3 leaflets for Arundell castle
• a ticket for Arundell castle
• Arundell Castle
• goat carcass
• 2 x chocolate bar wrappers
• a plastic bag containing 3 yorkshire teabags
• 3 euro
• £1.57 
• A small rectangular piece of floral card

What have I used today? The bank card (and the elf- but that's a totally different story). Did I need to take a handbag out? No.

Deciding what to wear to parties

TV taught me that getting ready for parties was a wonderful, giggly occasion filled with champagne, girlfriends and endless silky dresses.
It's actually more a case of "what do I have that is clean and flattering(ish) that isn't covered in fluff or cat fur?"
Also, there isn't any preening in front of a mirror like this , it's usually a case of putting on a bit more eyeliner and deodorant in a dirty bathroom mirror whilst swigging out of a warm can of Carlsberg.

Getting the bus

Teenagers at the bag of the bus were so cool. Jabbering on about what Tanya did to Kevin on their Nokia 3310s in their pink mckenzie jackets with their hair perfectly slicked back, although leaving two strands of hair stuck to their forehead to frame their overly plucked brows.
To 8 year old me, they were the coolest people ever. Such fun they had! I couldn't wait to be old enough to get the bus without Bev and to sit at the back with all my friends to giggle about Mr Samson and Mr Cauldwell's frightening neck veins whilst dizzy on watered down coca-cola.
I got the bus today - it was 20 minutes late. I sat by myself in the middle of the bus. I checked Twitter and got annoyed at how the steamed up windows were creating puddles of foul smelling liquid right next to my seat. Buses are great.

Chavs vs Emos

I mean, I know I was about 12 when this all happened but still, I thought that this would go on forever. I thought that as long as my friends dressed like me I'd have stuff in common with them. I couldn't ever be friends with a chav*, with their dirty jogging bottoms and white England shirts. I could only EVER get on with people in h&m skinny jeans and a cute fluro hoody with dinosaurs on saying "rawr means i luv u" or some shit.
But that EMO VS CHAV thing died out with 2006, (remember 06/06/2006 and 'Beat an Emo day'?) and everyone after that just blended together like some sort of teenage-stereotype smoothie.

Dating

Bring It On was literally my favourite film ever when I was 10. I used to constantly rent it on VCR and hiss with Arron came on screen and swoon when Cliff did.
 I thought Missy was bad-ass and Torrance was the epitome of female perfection. (That bit where she went up to Arron and mimicked his 'maybe you're just not captain material' speech but with 'boyfriend material' was the most BITCHIN' thing I had ever seen). But still, dating was so not like that. and it still isn't.
In Bring It On, Cliff made Torrance a tape with a song he wrote about her on.
In real life, Cliff would have stared at Torrance awkwardly for a couple of months before drunkenly texting her "i cnt stand ur cheerledin skwad bt i luv ur tits", after which they'd never, ever speak again.
In Bring It On, Torrance dumped Arron after catching him cheating on her and never spoke to him again.
In real life, Torrance would have still dumped him, but afterwards she'd have cut all her hair off in some sort of " FREE WOMAN" liberation thing.




*chav is a vile word and pretty much means, "poor and common". If you're going to be classist, you may as well just cut out the mystery and call the person you'd call a chav " a poor Iceland guzzler."