Stay golden

Just when you thought 2016 couldn't get any worse, out comes the US electorate, or rather approximately 47.4% of eligible voters, and quite literally Trumps all other stupendous (Brexit, Theresa May's unelected ascent, all things UKIP) and unfortunate (Bowie, Prince, Pete Burns and all other icons passing) incidents occurring so far this year. 2016 is officially the shit. Not in a youth lingo shit-means-good way either. Just shit. A big pile of schisse.

I'd be the first to admit that I don't know much about US elections, nor history, biology, a science book or the French I took for that matter, but it speaks volumes that voters would rather elect a billionaire businessman with zero political experience, non-existent policies, terrible views of anyone not white and male and questionable choice of fake tan, than a woman with substantial political weight and a track record of successful diplomacy on the global stage. It's like comparing the Milk Cup with the Nobel Prize and people going 'I'd rather have the Milk Cup because it's easier to pronounce'.

It's been one of the most divisive elections in history. White men and rural folk versus women, people from a BME background and city dwellers. Trump and his mantra of Make America Great Again by deporting Mexicans, pissing off China and banning muslims resonated with sufficient numbers. Because you know, nothing says Great like racism, xenophobia, misogynism and tax evasion.

I found myself in a road side motel room in San Simeon in the golden state of California as the election results started coming in and watched in disbelief as the ominous signs of a Trump victory grew stronger. The despair. We ended up watching Brewster's Millions instead. Brewster for president! He's only a millionaire and doesn't seem entirely self serving.

At least I could don my new t-shirt that I'd stumbled upon in Target in downtown San Francisco, whilst on the prowl for cheap sweets.

How can one fail to feel at least a tad more joyous in the company of the Golden Girls themselves?? There's some comfort in knowing that whatever twattish nonsense is happening, there's still a whole lotta good shit in the world. And these are clearly scary times for anyone on both sides of the Atlantic who cares about equality of opportunities, rights and treatment but I'm hopeful there will be positive effects of Brexit and Trump. The young vote seems to be favouring inclusivity, and we all know that children are our future, so I say engage more young people in decision making and influencing. That way we can all stay golden.

I'm disaster and I know it

According to The Guardian's TV reviewer, I'm a disaster as I buy t-shirts by the truckload. I disagree. A quick wardrobe count reveals that I've broken the centenary landmark which I don't think ranks as Towering Inferno levels of disaster, although capsule collection it definitely ain't.

The humble t-shirt is by far my favourite item of clothing, in the menswear stakes it's second only to footwear. We can all thank the US Navy for creating an undergarment for their uniforms during the Spanish-American war. Or maybe Marlon Brando for tearing up the screen in the iconic white t-shirt in A Streetcar Named Desire. Whilst the shape and fabric choices haven't altered much since the original garments, its place in fashion certainly has. And thank god for that, I can't imagine anything worse than having to don the Sunday suit for going down to t'club for pints and billiards on a Friday night. A t-shirt is altogether easier to wear and feel at ease wearing.

A good few years back I discovered the joys of screen printing using fabric paint. I churned out a substantial amount of t shirts, very few people avoided receiving a printed garment for birthday or christmas, as opposed to a proper present. I even sold one, a design hailing the stylings of the moustache featuring Burt Reynolds caught someone's eye in the pub. 20 quid easily made.

I say easily, in reality it was nothing but. The printing technique I used involved cutting out stencils (time consuming) for the print design and carefully placing these on to the fabric. I then utilised a mesh screen and a squeegee to apply the paint. Often the print would smudge so I'd either have to rectify using paintbrushes (time consuming) or start over with a new t shirt and stencil (effing time consuming). So I fell out with screen printing altogether.

Recently I made a (for me) revolutionary discovery. You can create your own t-shirts and have them printed for a relatively cheap cost. I'll be damned! Print companies have obviously been doing this for donkeys but somehow I didn't make the connection, I figured they only sell to hen and stag dos. So once I realised I could rediscover my t-shirt mojo, I've unsurprisingly gone to town. I'm disaster and I know it. I've got 5 of them so far, I used Vistaprint and Streetshirts, another batch is at the printers, and I've got at least another 2 designs that are yet to be realised.

I came across the phrase on Facebook and immediately thought I need to 'borrow' that one. Such an apt statement. The world would be a better place if it was just a font and not some minimally talented pop starlet.

I love Madonna. Love, love, love. The first album of hers I bought was True Blue on cassette in Seoul in 1987 so as a homage I figured I'd create a replica of the t-shirt she wears in the Papa Don't Preach video when she first locks eyes with the mulleted hunk whose baby she's keeping. Stone cold classic, song, video, the lot.

I recently went to the excellent Daydreaming with Stanley Kubrick exhibition at Somerset House, combining works in a range of media, inspired by Kubrick and his movies. This painting by Paul Insect which riffs on A Clockwork Orange caught my eye and channelling my inner Julian Opie, I set about recreating the design in Photoshop. The copyright infringing end result is one I'm particularly chuffed with,

Sam Fox featured prominently in my adolescence. In my case it was obviously not for her sizeable bosoms, rather for her musical output. Say what?!?!?! Yes siree, I had her first 3 albums, as well as the remix version of her first album. Her singles were all corkers, album tracks more quality diverse, more often than not referencing her page 3 past with titles such as Touch Me (I Want To Feel Your Body), Naughty Girls (Need Love Too), Hurt Me, Hurt Me (But The Pants Stay On), Love House, and Do Ya, Do Ya (Wanna Please Me). The Sam Fox appreciation society starts here. 

Another pop music reference. This time riffing the often used way of printing the members of classic bands. What better way to chart the most ridiculous band (in terms of fall outs and line up changes) in pop history, the Sugababes. I might sell the design concept to Mutya to add to her Sugababes stationery range. 

This is essentially why I love t-shirts, using the blank canvas you can go create whatever you want. A funny t-shirt, a poignant t-shirt, a celebratory t-shirt, a promotional t-shirt. And Sam Fox. People have the power

Happy feet

A few years ago I made a pledge to myself to never again wear plain old boring socks. My feet had spent a lifetime walking round in the distinctly limited palette of black, brown and grey. And white tube socks of course. Socks of a jazzier hue was a concept so alien that HR Geiger himself would've been more likely to start churning out pop art or twee water lillies.

Buoyed by the sudden upturn in the stylistic offerings from Primark, they definitely do the best cheapo socks, I set about amassing a vast collection of patterns, colours and motifs. Nothing's off limits. Orange zebra rubbing shoulders with purple camouflage. My feet are eternally grateful. Life in technicolour is infinitely more exciting. 

Menswear, as most of us know it, is fairly void of options, particularly on the lower half. Jeans, chinos, trousers. Trousers, chinos, jeans. I refuse to acknowledge the existence of the 'dressy jogger'. What's more, unless you're of a flamboyant ilk your bottoms are all plain coloured. A pair of jaunty socks adds a better balance and makes your feet more jolly. They'll practically skip down the street.

Unless I stick to Primark, I buy all my socks in the sale. Why pay full price when you can get them for a quid, or less? I tend to buy a pair or two a month. I'm fully committed to keeping my feet happy. The Topman sale is a particularly great source of cheap and positively random socks. 'Toucan play that game' in turquoise was a recent purchase. It doesn't get much better than that. Below are some others, including a set of three fast food themed socks. A foot long wiener. Say no more.

Maintaining happy feet also means investing in appropriate footwear. As befits the summer months, I've acquired some casual varieties over the last month or so. 

Pink and orange trainers from Nike
Grey and red trainers from Adidas
Red plimsolls from River Island

So whether it be socks or shoes, think colour, think bright, think fun, think It's My Life by Dr Alban. Happy feet makeths the man.

Early to rise makes a man healthy, (un)wealthy and wise

I don't sleep all that well. Or rather I don't sleep all that much. I tend to wake up between 4am and 5am most mornings, including weekends (apart from the rare occasions when I've been out on the lash the night before). My system seems to be set to 5 hours sleep like an internal alarm clock, to the point of making an analogue or digital version redundant. In fact, I find it rather unpleasant to be woken up by some loud audio so whenever I do feel the need to add an external to be on the safe side, catching early trains or planes for instance, I tend to wake up about 15 minutes before the alarm is set to go off just to avoid the bloody thing. First world problems and that.

The upshot to my early morning rise is having a couple of hours of spare time in the morning before having to get out of bed. Or in the case of that ghastly post-referendum morning 4 hours of staring into the abyss before getting out of bed. My brain decided that it was time to wake up at 3am and check the early results. Wish I hadn't bothered. The worst start to a day I've had in a long time, waking up in a pool of vomit with a hangover that feels like the grim reaper is hovering with intent is preferable. Not that I've ever experienced such an episode of course.

On a normal day, most of the early morning time is spent perusing the net, BBC news, BBC sports, BBC football gossip, The Guardian, Huffington Post, Aftonbladet, IMDb, Flixster, Arseblog (not related to anatomy), social media. Keeping my grey matter in good condition. And of course online shops. For some odd reason most retailers have my email address and they all keep sending manipulative and cunning communications with the aim of enticing me to spend. Someone with a stronger psyche may feel able to resist or control their temptations but not me. I'm straight in there. Call me Eve.

So it is that I've developed a new hobby - early morning shopping. It's a pure joy. Hitting the check out button on a 60% off, plus an extra 10% off the sale price, bargain is sweet as. And it sends me off to work in a good mood, post-Brexit grey mist aside. In recent weeks my morning spending sprees have resulted in an array of items, all at 50% off or more.

Black trench coat - Zara

Grey denim shirt - Zara
Perfect combo, although summer appears to have finally arrived in London so there'll be a few weeks til the coat gets an airing.



Blue trench coat in 'technical fabric' - Zara
Peach knitted polo shirt with a slightly annoying concealed button fastening - Zara
Some may argue that it's a tad frivolous to buy two trench coats in one go. Not me



Black velvet floral printed t shirt - River Island
New Balance trainers in tricolor (allez les bleus tomorrow!!) - Asos
Navy polka dot polo shirt - Topman
Black sweatshirt with Malmö print (very random) which I obviously had to buy, hashtag patriotism - Topman

Red skinny trousers - Topman

Cream slim chinos - River Island

Grey slim jeans - River Island

So there you have it. Bargain shopping is good for you. I reckon it should be counted as 1 of your 5 a day. Infinitely more enjoyable than a green super food smoothie. 

3 is the magic number

Bette Davis once said "The key to life is accepting challenges. Once someone stops doing this, he's dead". I for one am inclined to follow suit because I fully assume when someone stopped following Bette's orders, he was equally dead. To avoid evoking the wrath of Miss Davis I've set myself a new challenge; I'm going to run 3 half marathons in 3 weeks in 3 different countries. 39 miles in total. Pure pleasure seeker.

I'd love to run a full marathon but I doubt my ailing joints will withstand the onslaught. This constitutes a reasonable adjustment. It's obviously nowhere near Eddie Izzard levels of physical and mental torture but I can guarantee that I'll be in serious pain by the 35th mile. I just hope to avoid doing a Paula Radcliffe.

The 3 half marathons in 3 weeks in 3 different countries are:

1. Sunday 25 September - Foulees Lambersartoises, Lambersart, France
2. Sunday 2 October - Cardiff Half Marathon, Cardiff, Wales
3. Sunday 9 October - Royal Parks Half Marathon, London, England

I'll be running for Breast Cancer Care and will welcome any generous donation, large or small. I've got a target of £350 to achieve and with your help I can avoid having to resort to some form of "humorous" degradation to raise cash. Or a bake sale. I've set up a Just Giving page to make donating as easy as possible so there's really no excuse.

In return for your donations, I'll put in the required hours of preparation, running round Regent's Canal, the River Lea and the Queen Elizabeth II Olympic Park on weekend mornings, dodging dog walkers, overly optimistic anglers and monged out revellers from the night before. The aim is to push for a finishing time round the 1 hour 45 minutes mark, failing that anything under 1 hour 50 minutes, failing that just get to the finishing line. I'm quite a fast walker so I reckon I can make it round any which way without falling victim to the sweeper car.

Having been out for a few runs recently where I've inexplicably completely died on my feet by the 4th mile, I realised that I'd run several hundred miles further than recommended on my current trainers. A swift visit to the local Sweatshop and I'm now donning a brand new pair of Brooks Ravenna 7 trainers with moulded Footbalance insoles. £160 it set me back. Pure gritted teeth pleasure seeker.

At least the Breast Cancer Care running vest looks great, eye catching design and colour scheme, so even if I'll be running round Lambersart, Cardiff and London with a pained look on my face, I'll at least be doing it in style. 

For those of you who aren't aware, Breast Cancer Care is the UK's only nationwide support charity for people affected by breast cancer. Through face to face, online and phone based services, Breast Cancer Care is there every step of the way, from worrying about a lump to being given a diagnosis, from starting treatment to living beyond breast cancer. The charity receives only a tiny amount of statutory funding, relying wholly on the kind donations from individuals, groups and corporate partners. Please give generously

What a difference a few days makes

I'm just back from a two week sejour in Việt Nam. The country, culture, people, the way of life - top draw. The weather was proper off the scale, quite literally blistering and unconducive to sightseeing. Great beaches that hadn't yet suffered hyperdevelopment. Intriguing mix of communist ideology and market economy. But it was really all about the food and the bia. Cheap, plentiful, tasty, varied, and omnipresent. Tick all the boxes then will you?!

At the time of departure the weather was distinctly un-springy, The Artist Formerly Known As was alive and (un)well, Spurs thought they could win the premiership, Boris reigned at City Hall and I was still my normal hue and buying jumpers in the sale to assemble outfits such as this. Totally day into night (any excuse for a bit of Project Runway inspired lingo).

Light blue jumper from Burton
Yellow and black pocket square from Topman
(Shirt and blazer well old)

What a difference a couple of weeks makes though. Summer arrived and departed, Prince just departed, Spurs choked and Sadiq Khan triumphed. A mayoral victory for the people. Hopefully he'll make his mark by pulling the plug on the ludicrous Thames garden bridge straight away. As for me, I returned a few shades darker along with a couple of cheapo tailored shirts:

White long sleeved shirt by An tailor, Hoi An
Brown satchel in faux leather from Asos
(Black trousers well old)

Hoi An should be an essential destination for anyone visiting Vietnam. It's hands down the prettiest, most picturesque town in the whole of Asia. A UNESCO heritage site, the old town is simply stunning. The well preserved architecture is amplified at night with a plethora of lanterns and lights to create an ambience completely at odds with the traffic maelstrom you get elsewhere. And the food and bia is still superbly cheap.

As ubiquitous as the lanterns are tailor shops offering 'bespoke' suits, dresses, coats, shoes, you name it. Problem is the offerings all look the same so choosing the best one becomes a massive headfuck. I went with the advice from our hotel receptionist and ended up at An tailors. They tried their hardest to flog a 3 piece suit in royal blue but I settled on two shirts, a navy dogtooth and white diamond textured.

The finished products are competently put together and more importantly fit my measurements like normal high street gear don't. Being a short arse my arms aren't the length of standard sweatshop sewing patterns so wearing a shirt with sleeves the right length is a proper treat.

It's a short lived treat though for sure. Unlike Madonna's object of desire, I can't afford to get my suits custom made in London. A few weeks made a difference but not quite on that level *trundles back to the high street*.

Spontaneus spectacles

Impulse buying is awesome. It's the ultimate test of your intuition and instinct. It's not for everyone, heading straight for the checkout with minimal time for deliberation would cause angina-esque symptoms for some. Do I really need it? What if I change my mind? Can I afford it? Maybe I should write a list of pros and cons? Does my bum look big? Bollocks to that. There's nowt as liberating as a spontaneous purchase.

So in the spirit of not thinking twice, I've just bought myself new specs, not because I need 'em or needed to get rid of 300 quid, but because I bloody love the frames. Love is all you need. And here they are in all their selfie glory.

(The jacket's new too, a bargalicious Asos purchase. On a whim obvs)

I'm so not bothered about designer gear but these ones just happen to be Gucci. Most importantly they're plastic but with proper nose pads. A very rare find. They could've been Happy Shopper and I would've bought them still, such is the plight of a flat nosed person. Hardly any plastic frames fit because of the lack of a sizeable nose bridge. I bought my current ones in Seoul last year, I figured my fellow ethnic origin men would experience similar issues and the range of frames would be designed accordingly. My assumption paid off, I struck gold in the Gangnam area, plastic frames with much heftier moulded nose pads for less than a tenner. Gangnam style, minus sexy ladies and silly dance moves.

The new specs are the 4th pair I've bought in 4 years, all thanks to having a sister who manages an optician's. Family discount innit. Unfortunately (for me, brilliant for her) my sister's departing the ophthalmology trade to take over the store management of a craft shop so I don't reckon I'll make it 5 in 5 years. But I might just take up crocheting and origami if the price is right.

Frankly and morally wrong

To the surprise of nobody, David Cameron has admitted to profiting from offshore, tax free investments. Hashtag resigncameron. Or as some right wing media put it: Jeremy Corbyn accuses the Prime Minister of tax evasion, let's get Corbyn sacked. Hashtag desperation. 

The leaked documents that added Files to the list of words associated with Panama, along with Hat and Canal, exposed he of Big Society fame as a scheming hypocrite. Having previously called tax evasion 'frankly and morally wrong', the despicable cretin has finally had his (at least temporary) comeuppance. Frankly my dear, your morals are all wrong. 

What I wholeheartedly object to is the unashamed greed of the rich and richer. Fine, earn your millions through whatever method, legit or dubious, but at least pay your bloody taxes. There are plenty of apparently acceptable ways of reducing the amount of tax you pay, Mrs Cameron Snr clearly knows a few, so don't go out of your way to reduce your contribution to zero. And rest assured you'll still have plenty left, you won't have to swap Wagyu for Potted.

Whilst I admit that at times it'd be great to dodge the tax man and take home 100% of earnings, I'm usually one of life's jolly tax payers. I'm a Swede, it's what we do. As long as you've got enough to live comfortably what's the big deal? Besides I've long adopted the less-buys-more approach to style renewal, so whereas I'd LOVE to own a Jil Sander coat reality dictates that one can buy 50 jackets for the same price. I don't think I've bought 50 jackets yet in my life so frankly my dear, I don't give a damn about over priced designers.

Here's an outfit I bought instead:

Grey blazer from Burton
Red roll neck jumper from Topman
Striped pocket square from KappAhl

According to the people in the know, grey is one of the key colours this season so wear with gusto until some freakishly hip fashionista declares that noone wears grey anymore.

I also bought another outfit, role reversal this time:



Deep red harrington jacket from Zara
Grey jumper from Topman

The Harrington is an ideal jacket for the warmer months, lightweight but sufficiently substantial, sharp but versatile, dress up, dress down, and anyone who doesn't want to look like Steve McQueen truly is frankly and morally wrong.

Taking the biscotti

To mark the arrival of British summertime (not a moment too soon), I've made biscotti. Not just any biscotti either, Bee Berrie's Chocolate orange biscotti from her inaugural recipe book. Brilliantly inventive, uber-stylishly photographed, the book is crammed full of biscuit recipes that firmly puts the fun back into baking. Mug of tea cookies, Fortune cookies, Rubik's cube cookies, Jammie dodgers, style AND substance.

I was fortunate enough to attend the book launch a few weeks back and came away with a signed copy, somewhat intoxicated on delicious Amaretti biscuittinis (recipe included in the book). I've been itching to try my hand at one of recipes since and settled on the Chocolate orange biscotti as I'd never made biscotti before and I had some oranges lying around. I ended up deviating from the original recipe ever so slightly (sorry Bee!) by swapping some of the nut varieties to what I had in the cupboard. The end result appears to have been unaffected. They're proper tasty.

The recipe was really easy to follow, with fool proof instructions and helpful tips. I shall definitely be exploring further. In fact, friends with an impending birthday can prepare themselves for cookie based presents. Perhaps some stencilled biscuits with choice wording, me, fuck, old, you're.

What I like about the book, apart from the awe-inducing photos, is that Bee seems to be declaring that quirky and cool baked creations aren't just the entitlement of the gentrified bourgeoisie with money to burn. We can all be artisans. With icing, stencils and cookie cutters in our armoury and taste combination tutelage from Bee herself, the biscuit revolution starts here. Vive la patisserie!

To get your hands on a copy of Bee's Brilliant Biscuits from a retailer that pays their fair share into the British state purse, visit your local bookshop (unless it's closed down because the tax avoiding antics of corporate behemoths have forced their hand) or go online, Foyles for example.

Not on my watch

I've got myself a new toy in the shape of a Sony Smartwatch 3, my first foray into the weird and wonderful world of 'wearables'. Having something cleverer than yourself on your wrist does have its benefits. For instance you can change the fascia like 20 times a day. How I managed to live life without one is beyond me.

Good innit? The main reason for investing in yet another electricity draining gadget was to replace the slightly uncomfortable mobile arm strap when out running with something eminently more portable, however here's where it's somewhat less brainy. 

I use the Nike+ app for tracking my runs and keeping me informed of pace and distance. This particular app isn't available on Android Wear, presumably because Nike are bed fellows with Apple. Sort it out Google. The OS isn't the most intuitive and accessing app menus can feel a bit clunky. Worst of all though, you can't play Spotify through the watch. Doh! I stopped (il)legally purchase music years ago so having to load the watch with MP3s feels regressive and far from clever. At least I can change the fascia 40 times a day though so all is not lost.

I bought the watch as an impulse whilst in Sweden. My parents were buying a laptop and I stumbled upon the watch in the electronics shop. It was 15 quid CHEAPER than the UK. Result. It had its first outing a misty morning in Åmål (of Fucking Åmål fame), 5.47 km of cross country skiing, completed in 35 mins and 52 seconds. Gunde Svan I am not. But I can change the fascia 60 times a day. Life is good

No, no, no, no, YES!

In my mind there's no such thing as a strict negative when it comes to spending money. Last minute jitters, sweaty palms at the thought of parting with loadsa cash, the prospect of eating beans and value bread for a month. Sure but no, no, no, it's all good. Strict financial management, denying oneself the delights of new purchases. Yes, yes, yes, total misery.

Over the last couple of weeks I've acquired a mini capsule collection of discounted goods. Shocking behaviour, and so unlike me. 70% or more off equals a virtual giveaway and I never say no to a freebie. No, no, no, yes.

Grey cable knit jumper, Topman - 67% off

Black roll neck long sleeved top, River Island - 75% off

Black skinny cropped trousers, River Island - 60% off

Brown suede brogue wedge shoes, Office - 60% off

White short sleeved shirt in a 2 pack, Topman - 60% off

Blue quilted sweatshirt, Topman - 83% off

According to the style experts throwing their tuppenceworth into this year's Oscar frock glamaganza, blue in all its hues is bang on trend for spring summer 2016 so chances are I'll be parading the sweatshirt at any given opportunity. Wearing it as we speak even. Previous incarnations of the black roll neck and black trouser combo have drawn comparisons with the Milk Tray man by my work colleagues. The similarities clearly end there, I ain't risking my life to deliver a box of chocolates to nobody. Yes, yes, yes, fuck that. 

There are lots of things I would say yes to though, no, no, no qualms about it. Arsenal miraculously going the rest of the season unbeaten. Zlatan in blue and yellow slaying the competition in France this summer. The sunniest, driest Great British summer since records began. A Dale Winton sponsored supermarket sweep in Selfridges. An overwhelmingly resounding trouncing of the Brexit brigade in June. A humiliating defeat for Donald Trump in November (Hillary FTW!) 

For all its fallacies, I unequivocally feel that the UK is better in than out of the EU, particularly as we're currently at the mercy of a government who sees the Human Rights Act as unwelcome bureaucracy. Anyone believing that 'reclaiming British sovereignty' will automatically mean a better deal for the general population need to stop overdosing on Murdoch supplied news. And wouldn't it be great to witness Boris Johnson's face when an IN verdict is read out?? Priceless. As for Trump, such a vile clown holding the most powerful position in the world doesn't bear thinking about. He makes Kim Jong Un appear rational and sensible.

This year, two of the most significant ballots ever will be made within months of each other. People of the world, the decision is yours. Don't fuck it up. Yes, yes, yes, no.

Money Spending Expert

Fact: I'm one of life's spenders. People like me keep people like Martin Lewis extremely well fed with our need for constant reminders not to get royally screwed over, pay over the odds or mismanage our finances. Erratic spending is my stock-in-trade and no amount of brainwashing from the experts in money saving would stem the cash flow. In the same week that one of the Money Saving Expert bloggers decided to FLY from Sheffield to Essex via Berlin as it was £8 cheaper, I took it upon myself to make a similar journey way way way more expensive than it ought to have been. I'm a disaster, it's what I do.

So anyone looking to waste a few quid here's a quick recipe:
1. Book a train ticket in advance for £33 (1st class obvs)
2. Pick it up from the ticket machine
3. Lose said ticket, alternatively throw it in the bin
4. Forget you picked it up in the first place
5. Try and collect it again
6. Leave it til the day of travel before enquiring about the collection error
7. Find out that you indeed picked up the ticket 2 weeks previous and therefore a replacement can't be issued
8. Feel like a twat on the phone
9. Feel like a twat after hanging up
10. Grudgingly buy another ticket for £73.50 (Standard pleb class obvs)

New year, same old me
I've pretty much given up on acquiring common sense by now. Luckily I've also spent money on more enjoyable fare too. New year, same old me, new stylings. All of them in the sale. Fashion forward in last season's gear. Trendplagiariser. Sartorially delayed. The sale offers keep on coming too so there's no let up in the temptations.

Here are a few of the things I'll be sporting around town over the coming months:










Burgundy trench from Zara. The quintessential sale item, not even end of season, end of the season before. They'll be stocking the stores with spring/summer's version of trench coats soon, the fact that it's a timeless classic seems to have gone amiss somewhere. Fool them.



Block coloured jumper from Shore Leave, Urban Outfitters. Unusal and cheap=Win and win.



Black and grey stripe jumper from Only & Sons, Asos. I was expecting white stripes but hey ho. At least there's no hard button to button.

White and black printed short sleeve shirt from Asos. I love this shirt, in the most tenuous of fashions it reminds me of Sean Connery as 007 in Goldfinger. Shocking, positively shocking.



Pink gingham shirt from Asos. Ginghams do have soul.



Pink polo from Brave Soul, Asos. On Wednesdays we wear pink.



Block patterned t shirt from Zara. It's a bitch to iron so this one will get limited airtime.



Coloured collar and cuffs polo from Topman. The tag says skinny, the description did not *fumes*.



Annoyingly squeaky white trainers from Pull and Bear. Having re-discovered my likeness for the white trainer recently, no idea when and why it meant missing, this is the 3rd pair I've bought in quick succession. 2 of them squeak. Not impressed.



Pack of 4 excellently patterned socks from Urban Outfitters. The woman in the Westfield Stratford shop forgot to take the alarm tag off each pair and as a result the socks have been on a round trip to Oxford pre-usage.

All of the above purchases clock in at just under £150 so come to think of it I may well be an expert in saving money. So there. You won't catch me wasting valuable money-spending-time flying to Berlin just for the sake of it though. I'd rather get to my destination as quickly as possible. If only I can remember to not pick up the ticket, or not to lose the ticket, or not to forget that I picked up the ticket, or....

Close but no cigar

2016 is here. For some it couldn't come quicker I'm sure. For me, on a personal level, 2015 was immense, quite possibly the best yet, but for the wider world it was a bit of a disaster. Wars, terrorist attacks, mandatory US mass shootings, far right gains in elections, the privileged toffs running amok in Whitehall. The flooding in the north of England that are still at large kinda sums it up, a deluge of crap leaving a whole heap of rubbish in its wake.

Now that the drunken mass-renditions of Auld Lang Syne have subsided for another year, let's all make a concerted effort to make it a Happy New Year. For all. Compassion and consideration doesn't cost owt. Just follow ABBA's instructions for a jolly good year ahead: "May we all have a vision now and then of a world where every neighbour is a friend" ..."if we don't we might as well lay down and die". Love thy neighbour like, regardless of their creed, immigration status or heritage. Unless they're a Tory, then maybe just tolerate their existence.

With newfound optimism, I've got high hopes for the new year, personally and professionally. I'm not one for making resolutions, although last year's promise of spending more money definitely came through loud and clear, so I might keep it simple by declaring my intention to have a laugh, all year long. Why the hell not? Life itself is a lot easier when you're having fun.

Having said all that, there is one resolution I'm happy to make: to go to the cinema 52 times in 52 weeks. In late 2014 I decided to attempt said achievement in 2015, however circumstances within and beyond my control conspired to derail the challenge. So as the year has drawn to a wet and windy conclusion, the final tally stands at 50 films. Close but no cigar.

In what was a quite terrific year for movies - Bond and Star Wars, say no more - my top 5 films of 2015 were as follows:

1. Duke of Burgundy - a most unusual love story
2. Tangerine - a most unusual revenge story
3. Son of Saul - a harrowing holocaust film that isn't Schindler's List
4. Whiplash - brutal drumming
5. Birdman - fake one-take Oscar behemoth

All of the above were 10 out of 10 films in my book, and there's little to choose between them. Duke of Burgundy edges it on the basis that it's truly orginal and exceptionally intriguing. And it features the most peculiar home decorations. Doubt the famous Swedish furniture store will develop flat pack versions any time soon.

The worst film by a country mile was The Tribe, not because it was badly made but because of its relentless misery. The premise of a film entirely dialogued in Ukrainian sign language and without subtitles was enough to peak my interest. I didn't come prepared for trafficking, prostitution, abuse, violence and unpleasant sexual encounters. After leaving the cinema I kinda felt violated, which isn't necessarily the chief reason for a cinema visit.

Here's the full list with marks out of 10 for anyone who's interested:
Wk 1 Birdman 10
Wk 2 Enemy 8
Wk 3 Whiplash 10
Wk 4 Wild 5
Wk 5 Ex Machina 7
Wk 6 Inherent Vice 2
Wk 7 Love is Strange 6
Wk 8 Duke of Burgundy 10
Wk 9 Kimiko 3
Wk 10 The Light Shines Only There 5
Wk 11 Still Alice 7
Wk 12 Mommy 4
Wk 13 Wild Tales 9.5
Wk 14 Blade Runner 9
Wk 15 Force Majeure 8
Wk 16 Cobain Montage of Heck 5
Wk 17 Glassland 2.5
Wk 18 Avengers - Age of Ultron 4D 1
Wk 19 A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence 9
Wk 20 The Tribe 1
Wk 21 Clouds of Sils Maria 6
Wk 22 The Connection 8
Wk 23 The Confessions of Thomas Quick 5
Wk 24 Mr Holmes 6
Wk 25 The Reunion 9
Wk 26 Eden 3
Wk 27 Iris 9
Wk 28 45 years 6
Wk 29 Legend 8
Wk 30 Everest 6
Wk 31 99 Homes 6
Wk 32 Les invisibles 8
Wk 33 The Martian 8
Wk 34 Sicario 9.5
Wk 35 The Lobster 9
Wk 36 Macbeth 7
Wk 37 Spectre 9
Wk 38 The Enigma of Kaspar Hausen 8
Wk 39 Tangerine 10
Wk 40 The Lady in the Van 8
Wk 41 Love 6
Wk 42 Son of Saul 10
Wk 43 My Skinny Sister 7
Wk 44 Chemsex 6
Wk 45 Carol 9
Wk 46 Black Mass 8
Wk 47 Grandma 6
Wk 48 Star Wars - The Force Awakens 9
Wk 49 Soft Lad 1
Wk 50 The Forbidden room 4

So for the year in cinema 2016 I'm adding some additional criteria. One of the main objectives with the original idea was to broaden my scope by choosing a movie from what was on offer that particular week, even when pickings were slim (eg summer). That worked in Sheffield where films tend to be screened for a limited period. In London however, scheduling goes on and on and on, the Lobster is still playing in a number of cinemas, so it's easier to just go and see stuff I'm into. Plus I had to resort to Curzon Hone Cinema on a few occasions. This year I'm only going to see films AT the cinema, and soon after general release, be it new films or re-releases. I'll discount any random BFI screenings of classics and rarities. 

I've already kicked things off with The Danish Girl and will add mini-reviews on a Pinterest board throughout the year http://pin.it/fB25qqA. Next week it's Sherpa and The Hateful 8, The Revenant and Room the week after. This time next year that cigar will have been smashed to smithereens I tell thee