The 3 L's

Idol of the Week: Emma Watson

Surely you’ve seen it? Everyone’s talking about it – the internet is going crazy over it. Twitter is pinging with supportive tweets and snaps. Celebrities are clamouring over each other to try and associate themselves with it. I’m talking about Emma Watson’s amazing UN Speech, which can be viewed here.

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I’m a big believer in having idols. I think having people to admire and even envy (within reason) is healthy – without losing sight of ourselves, of course – as it inspires us all to embark on a path of self improvement, and so when those who we admire involve themselves in greater causes, such as charities, it inspires those who look up to them to become involved, and to step back and think ‘how can I help? Is there something about my lifestyle that contradicts this amazing cause? Is there something that I can do?’

I’ve heard some people say things such as ‘why is this little actress getting involved with this stuff? What difference can she make – she’s an actress’. Please. As a member of the Harry Potter generation, its fairly obvious to me just how influential Emma Watson is. The series may be over (for now… who knows, after all), but the Harry Potter generation is ongoing, and therefore whatever ‘Hermione Granger’ has to say, this age group sits up and listens.

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It’s so great that she is obviously fully aware of this fact and is therefore using her voice wisely.

So yes, she is someone who I admire, in the mush that is the often-ugly world of Hollywood; a world of twerking, ‘accidental’ wardrobe malfunctions, sex tapes and… Jesus.. the Kardashians I think I’d cry if either of my younger sisters turned around and said that they want to be just like one of the Kardashians or Miley Cyrus when they grow up, to be quite frank.

So this is a little shout out post to someone who actually speaks sense.. simply because I like people who speak sense, but they are such a rare find!

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I don’t want other people to decide who I am. I want to decide that for myself.

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All I can do is follow my instincts, because I’ll never please everyone.

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But it’s a journey and the sad thing is you only learn from experience, so as much as someone can tell you things, you have to go out there and make your own mistakes in order to learn.

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I don’t want the fear of failure to stop me from doing what I really care about.

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There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. It’s not the absence of fear, it’s overcoming it. Sometimes you’ve got to blast through and have faith.

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I have felt for the last 10 years I have had this battle; I’ve been fighting so hard to have an education. It’s been this uphill struggle. I was Warner Bros’ pain in the butt. I was their scheduling conflict. I was the one who made life difficult.

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I don’t have perfect teeth, I’m not stick thin. I want to be the person who feels great in her body and can say that she loves it and doesn’t want to change anything.

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The saddest thing for a girl to do is to dumb herself down for a guy.

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I feel that young girls are told that they have to be a princess and fragile. It’s bullshit. I identify much more with being a warrior – a fighter. If I was going to be a princess, I’d be a warrior princess, definitely.

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Don’t feel stupid if you don’t like what everyone else pretends to love.

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As much as someone can tell you things, you have to go out there and make your own mistakes in order to learn.

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London

How to be British

Frankly, I’m an anglophile, which is rather convenient seeing as I was born in England, I live in England, I acquired my degree in England, and I’ve spent the vast majority of my twenty-two years in England. If there is one thing that I have noticed throughout Europe, it’s that being British is very much the ‘in thing’. Americans love us, Australians love us, most Europeans have a love-hate thing for us. Everyone thinks we have the sexiest accents, the sexiest male actors, the most adorable Queen. Yes, there are some down sides to being British; the terrible weather, our emotional constipation, our politicians… people complain about our food, but personally I find that it’s so bad, that it’s the best diet ever created, despite the obesity crisis, but for the most part, being British is great, and so I wanted to take a moment to share my expertise on how to be British. Well… I suppose I should say, how to be an honourary British citizen. If you want to legalise matters, you’re on your own, I’m afraid.

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1. First thing’s first, drink tea.

My friends will laugh at this, as I spent the first twenty-two years, nine months, three weeks and two days of my life professing my deep dislike for tea (and you should note, that I am as of today, twenty-two years and ten months old). However, this isn’t a post about how British I am, but rather, how to be British, and so let’s just brush that small matter aside, shall we?

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Tea and Britain go hand in hand. If you’re sad, drink tea, if you’re happy, celebrate with tea, if you’re gathered for a chin wag, a book club, a funeral or a wedding breakfast, drink tea. Relish in the ongoing debates as to the best tea blend: Earl Grey, English Breakfast or Yorkshire, milk or lemon (the snobbiest Britains will claim that milk in tea is scandalously common, but this rule has all but disappeared now days), and if you do prefer milk, is it added before or after tea? Biscuits are recommended for dunking, most common preferences being digestives, rich tea or nice. Biscuits and instant coffee is also a very British snack of choice… perhaps partly to make the terrible taste of instant tea more bearable.

You can also drink as much coffee as you want (something that I take full advantage of), as long as you also drink tea.

Especially welcome in the afternoon, with little cakes and still more biscuits – and a circle of friends to gossip with.

2. Unofficially adopt the Queen as a third grandmother/fifth great-grandmother.

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Because she’s adorable, she jumped out of a helicopter with James Bond (that was actually real, you know. James Bond is real, the jump was real, there was no stunt doubles, anyone who says otherwise is a blasphemous fool guilty of treason), and she’s probably the only woman going on ninety who can still ride around on a horse without it resulting in two hip replacements. She’s also really stylish. I can’t help but wonder if she has that generic old woman smell that all grandmothers seem to have. Seriously, what is with that?

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3. Following the same royalist strand, grow up with a crush on either Wills or Harry

This one applies mostly to people of my generation, who remember a time before Prince William lost his hair and when Prince Harry was still ginger. Personally, I always preferred Wills; he always seemed to be the gent, while Harry is the cheeky chappy. Basically, everyone has a favourite. It’s a British generation Y requirement.

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4. Besides our two charming princes, we’re fortunate enough to have a bevvy of beautiful male actors to swoon over whenever we turn on the television. Common traits of British male actors being razor-sharp cheekbones, beautiful southern accents (with a few notable exceptions, such as David Tennant, for example.. but he can fool anyone when adopting an English accent) and velvety voices, and foppish hair, our actors have taken the world by storm, each with their own fanatic dedicated fandom: Benedict Cumberbatch (my crush of choice), and the Cumberbitches Cumberbabes, Tom Hiddleston and the Hiddlestoners, David ‘Ten-inch’ and his… well, I’m not really sure what his fans call themselves, if I’m honest… Tennantiers, Tennanterinos… the Ten-inchers? Then there’s Matt Smith, Matthew MacFadyen, James McAvoy, Eddie Regmayne, Colin Firth, Robert Pattinson, Martin Freeman, Tom Hardy, Andrew Lincoln, Ben Barnes, Jonny Lee Miller.. not to mention every actor of the Harry Potter series… five minutes on Tumblr or Pinterest will show you just how many British actors have reached a sex-god status, though frankly, if you need to take the time to visit either site to check that claim, you must have spent the last decade impersonating a cowardly ostrich.

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5. Fictional British characters from period novels are also acceptable dream men.

Darcy, Heathcliff, Rochester, we have so much to thank Austen and the Bronte sisters for. But equally, they promised us so much, while life delivers so little. I strongly believe that an introductory warning as to the downsides of dating a Byronic bad boy in the real world should  included at the front of the likes of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. What has happened to literature now days? Why are all of the crush-worthy heroes from books penned two centuries ago?

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6. Master the British humour. It’s sarcastic, self-deprecating, dry, witty and intellectual, if I say so myself. Tread with caution, as it can be misunderstood for being rude when used abroad. Rein it in when travelling so as not to cause offence.

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7. There are only two British accents that are recognizably British worldwide; Queen’s English and Cockney. If, like 95% of the population, you have one of Britain’s other 1000000003 accents, you will have to endure being constantly asked if you are Australian… usually by Americans. No one will understand you if you speak with a Scottish accent, including most English people, and there is something ever hilarious about the Welsh accent.

8. It is practically a legal requirement to read the entire Harry Potter series religiously. At least twice. While drinking tea. There will be tests in the forms of debates, reminisces and fanatic fandom fantasies. for the remains of your life in England. Harry Potter is everywhere, there is no escaping. Just accept it.

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The movies are also a requirement, as long as you immediately accept that, while the movies have their brilliant points (such as Dame Maggie Smith making the perfect Professor McGonagall, Alan Rickman making the perfect Severus Snape, and the generally awesome special effects – at present – of the later movies), the books will always be unbeatable in their perfection, and we will, as a nation, mourn the end of the series and live in longing of a revival from JK Rowling.

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9. Daily conversation requirements:

– The weather.

– The traffic.

– Endless menial complaints.

– An offering of tea.

10. Curtains are there, not to afford us privacy, but to allow us a hiding place while we spy on our neighbours’ privacy.

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11. Equally, garden fences are not there for privacy, but rather, they are there for gossiping over.

Because apparently we’re too lazy to step outside and knock on our neighbour’s front door. Neighbours aren’t neighbours without an almost-daily chin wag in the back garden while putting the washing out. With British weather being as it is, this habit does tend to go into hibernation for the winter, however.

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12. The great scone pronunciation debate.

Scone as in gone, or scone as in cone. Some will settle for a happy medium by using scone as in cone before eating the scone (with a pot of tea and lashings of jam and clotted cream… or butter if in the privacy of your home where no one can judge you), and switching to scone as in gone once devoured.

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13. If it’s sunny, it’s time for Pimms and a BBQ.

No excuses.

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14. Forget your social skills and swallow your emotions.

The stiff upper lip is not only a trait of Victorian England; it is very much alive and kicking. The most emotional we ever get is our daily list of complaints (see point 9), but when faced with anything that requires us delving into the depths of our emotions, we’re stumped. Dating can be tricky when neither party is willing to ever confess how we are feeling towards the other,

We are also polite to a fault. It’s practically law to begin every conversation with ‘sorry’, we will always refuse any offering of food regardless as to how hungry we are, if we don’t catch your name, we therefore can never speak again (though that one isn’t about politeness, but rather… what shall we call it? Shyness? I don’t know what it is, but it’s weird and yet unavoidable), we’ll jog across zebra crossings while throwing an apologetic wave at each driver, who will then usually throw a reassuring wave back. It’s almost impossible to tell our hairdresser that they are firstly scalding our scalp during washing, and secondly, giving us a look that is more Simon Cowell than pixie chic. Everything is fine, dandy, lovely. Then we go home and sob – and complain – and comfort ourselves with tea. I’ve known my Dad sample ale in the pub, order a full pint, only to then tell me that it tasted disgusting but he felt too awkward to tell the barman as such. Now that’s a british problem, if ever I saw one.

15. There is no sitting on the fence in regards to marmite.

One cannot simply be indifferent to marmite. It’s pretty much served up at customs for all newcomers to our country to sample and therefore acquire an opinion of. Personally, I hate, loathe, and despise marmite (though changing your mind with age is allowed, as I am told that I would have happily devoured it by the gallon as a toddler), but those who I know who like it, do not simply like it… they live on it.

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16. Hide from window cleaners… Jehovah’s Witnesses, salesmen… anyone who dares come to the door.. or window.

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We would rather dive gracelessly behind the sofa/under the dining table/into the laundry hamper then have to sit, watching television and drinking tea while the window cleaner gawps at us through the window, each refusing to make eye contact with the other, while we nervously sip our tea and wonder whether we ought to offer the window cleaner a cuppa. We’d much rather endure bruises from our swan dive then face house arrest because, frankly, if a Jehovah’s Witness spots us, they will simply never, ever leave. They work in pairs for a reason – so that one of them can always sit vigil on our doorsteps while the other nips to Tesco to stock up on supplies. As for salesmen… they’re just really, really irritating.

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However, I think, if our window cleaner looked like this, we’d be dragging him behind the sofa with us.

17. Never turn on the street without first checking your phone.

This one is so ingrained in all of us that it’s not even a conscious decision. We don’t walk down the street and think, ‘oh shit, I’m lost, I need to turn around and walk back the way I came, but if I do that, I’ll look like a twat, so I best check my phone and pretend to have an important text or call that changes my plans suddenly’. It’s more along the lines of ‘oh, shit, I’m lost, I need to turn around and walk back the way I came… oh, look at that, my phone is suddenly in my hand, and now I’m therefore looking at it… how convenient… andddd turn!

It goes hand-in-hand with the pride of never asking for directions.

18. For British men, Sundays are for washing the car and mowing the lawn.

I’m not one for gender stereotypes as such, but I must admit, I’m yet to see a woman either washing a car or mowing a lawn on a Sunday afternoon. Men do it themselves, and women rope in a friend. Why waste our time washing our car or mowing our lawn when our Sundays are dedicated to our weekly beauty overhaul, after all?

19. Accept that we are only good at one thing: being creative.

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Our food is terrible, most of the British industries (cars, trains etc) that once dominated the world have died out, and our tourism is focused far too much on London, Stratford upon Avon, Edinburgh and, for stay-cationers, the south coast or Wales. We do, however, know where our strengths lie; we’re rubbish at sports, and only a fool would go into any sporting event with anything more than doubtful hope, but most sports are in fact British ‘inventions’. We have a strong creative industry; our television is golden, our movies are timeless, our radio is entertaining, our comedy shows are golden and our writers are masters of intertwining their words to create beautiful prose. I mean, we have Shakespeare, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Dickens, Woolf, Conan Doyle… Not to mention, our music scene; The Beatles, Queen, The Rolling Stones, Elton John, The Stone Roses, Pink Floyd, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, David Bowie, The Smiths, The Who, Tom Jones, and most recently, Oasis, The Arctic Monkeys, Amy Winehouse, Coldplay (somewhat debatable), Radiohead… the list of musical greats born and bred in the UK is endless, and it’s where our talents really lie, I think – our creativity.

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20. Obsess over class.

I find that the British class system is the hardest thing for most of my friends abroad struggle to get their heads around. It’s not just a case of rich or poor, royalty, nobility and commoner. It’s so much more complex, and is very much still active in our society. The class system comes down to career, education (not just how far you took your studies, but which school you attended), pedigree, accent, hobbies and past times, where you live, how much disposable income you have (or pretend to have), your social circle… class will subtly affect all aspects of life.

The upper class are snobby towards the middle and working classes, the middle class are suspicious of the upper class and snobby towards the working class, while the working class are weirdly snobbish towards the middle and upper classes. No, I’m exaggerating, things are not that extreme, but naturally, as a general rule, classes don’t tend to mix, and where they do, it will be working/middle classes or upper/middle class line blurring. We’re all snobs, or snobby anti-snobs. I think it may be the biggest British trait of all.

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Looking back over this, it’s quite possible that I’ve drawn up a very (and mostly, maybe, quite possibly, extremely serious) post on how to be English, rather than British… some of these points of course count in Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland, but personally, I don’t think that the small matter of the 300-year old United Kingdom has done much to wear away the distinct personalities, traditions and quirks of each, so, as someone who was born and bred in England, here is a post on how to be very English, and more-or-less British, in a general sense. That would be a rather long title though, don’t you think…

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Wanderer

Portugal is beautiful… if only they could understand a word I say…

I know, I have a bit of a tendency to stammer.. or rather, not quite stammer, but more like stumbling, when I talk it’s like running downhill in flip flops, there’s so much that I want to say, and sooner or later I’m going to fall flat on my face at the bottom of the hill in a muddy pile that was once a sentence. That’s why when I travel I slow down, I take my time, I take off the verbal flip flops and I enunciate. And so when I arrived in Porto I thought, my Portuguese may be pretty much non-existent (despite having read through my phrase book about 50 times!!), but my English-speaking friends will be able to understand me. So, I arrived, and in this one apartment there are my three Portuguese friends, two people from Turkey and there was until yesterday an Italian guy, and I have also been introduced to a third Turkish guy and a girl from Finland. Can any of them understand me? No.

The stumbling stammer has been left behind in England, I’ve never spoken so clearly in my life and still, no one can understand me. It’s pretty frustrating to sit in a room with people from all over Europe, talking easily in broken English between each other and as soon as I ask ‘how are you?’ or ‘how was your day?’…. ‘what did you say?’

I think it’s partly because I say things like ‘gr-arse and ‘b-arth whereas they say ‘gr-ass‘ and ‘b-ath‘, but for the most part… apparently I am just too English. It’s one thing when I can’t join in a conversation because I don’t know the language, which of course is my own fault, but quite another when I can’t join in a conversation because I have the wrong accent.

Strangely, people here always presume that I’m French. I don’t know if it’s the clothes (mostly people ask if I’m French when I wear this skirt) Can’t say that I’m complaining. In fact, early today it took me five minutes to convince an elderly Portuguese woman that I am in fact English, despite my English accent and of course, the fact that I was speaking to her in English. ‘No, no, Français!’ Sure, if you say so.. it’s not an insult so, whatever.

I really have tried to learn at least some Portuguese though, but still after 9 months, I’m still stuck at the basics: hello, please and thank you. My first phrase book wasn’t really helping me though, as it contained such ridiculous phrases such as ‘Please help me, I have lost my pen’, ‘I have ripped my pants’ and ‘I have many diseases’ and in the ‘everyday use’ section, some worrying phrases about rape and murder. Yes, you could argue that these are important phrases, but everyday use? That’s worrying.

I’m sure it’ll just click for me eventually though, especially as here people are so friendly, even when they realise I can’t speak Portuguese, they insist on talking to me all the same, which is nice I suppose. I’m not really used to it yet though, I mean personally, if there is a language barrier, that ends the conversation right there unless I have to continue it, like when I am couchsurfing or if there is something urgent that I can only say in English; ‘your house is on fire’, ‘I am having a heart attack’, ‘a bird has just pooed on your head’ etc. Maybe people think I am lying, or maybe they think that as I am apparently French, I would be able to magically understand Portuguese?

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Anyway, on a cheerier note, I’ve fallen a little bit for Portugal again. I realised it while sipping cappuccino on the harbour front in my favourite cafe; it’s unbelievable cheap for a harbour-front cafe, modern and beautiful and yet I’ve never seen it more than half full, which is just perfect. Porto is one of those places when you can just spend hours people watching, and I’ve started to collect interesting characters; Portuguese Sean Penn with a mouth ready for false teeth; a cat with a mouth like Carey Mulligan (as in it looks like a corner of it’s mouth is being pulled up towards the sky with a fish hook); a morbidly obese woman with smiley face shaped sweat patches (and somehow the face had a ketchup nose) on her back; Asian Indiana Jones meets Dame Edna. Everyone has something that they collect when they travel; this is mine, and I’m rather excited to add to it.

I love that Porto has red phone boxes and postboxes like in England. It’s taken me three days to re-notice since September, but there they are, right in Avenida dos Aliados. I love that the metro is 1000x simpler than those in London and Paris, though sometimes I think the simplicity takes the fun out of it somewhat, and I especially love that the metro has air con! Both the stations and the tube itself. London, take note, you may not have Porto’s climate, but for god’s sake, you need air con too! I love Livraria Lello bookshop, which is quite possibly the most beautiful bookshop of all time, though I rather wish they didn’t have a no camera rule… and I also wish they’d allow me to have a shoot there, but alas, no.

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I was not at all surprised to learn that JK Rowling once lived in Porto and that this bookshop was a thread of inspiration behind Harry Potter.

I even love the beach, Matosinhos, though generally I am not a beach person. I hated it for a moment when the sand (I swear it wasn’t sand, it was glitter, someone has emptied 100 million pots of gold glitter and called it a beach), almost stripped the flesh from the soles of my feet, but I forgave it. It was my own fault, and I have learnt my lesson; keep the sandals on when it’s 35C+ degrees. The sand will be hot.

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