Ben, Jerry and Edinburgh

I don’t think I’ve mentioned just how many times I’ve been to the cinema recently. Well let me tell you, it’s been a lot. Three times in three weeks (that’s a lot isn’t it?): I love the cinema. The fact that I’m leaving the house makes watching a film seem infinitely more cultural. It is also normally accompanied by food. Week 1: Pizza Express followed by Ben and Jerry’s, week 2: GBK followed by Ben and Jerry’s, week 3: just shitloads of Ben and Jerry’s. I do like popcorn, but I just can’t betray my relationship with Ben and Jerry, which over recent years has pushed my old popcorn habits aside.

I first saw American Hustle, which was great, although by the end I had forgotten what Amy Adams’s face looked like, having been mightily distracted by her impressive cleavage throughout. The costumes and soundtrack we absolutely top notch and made me want to be reborn into the 70s. The only slightly depressing thing was how unattractive the usually smoking-hot Christian Bale looked – but I admire his commitment to the role. Next up was The Wolf of Wall Street HELLO LEO. A pretty rip-roaring ride of glamorous excess, drugs and sex. I’m not ashamed to admit I enjoyed it, even if I was supposed to remember how unethical the whole story is.

By the time I escaped Leeds for Edinburgh last weekend, I was a bit cinema-d out if I’m honest, but my friend insisted on going to watch Out of the Furnace. SO stressful, it is an intense and dark film about an ex-soldier and his family’s life in a grim industrial American town, where fighting makes you money but also puts you into lethal debt. I spent a lot of it whimpering with my hands over my eyes. I’m not a very good person to watch nerve-wracking films with, as my sympathetic nerves are very oversensitive. It did cheer me up however to see that Christian Bale had lost his hustling body fat and was back to his beautiful best.

Anyway, the reason for writing this is that I do supposedly have a life outside of the virtual escapism of film, so I should probably talk about that. The first week of lectures was a bit of a shock and I am still in denial about the whole thing. I’ve spent more time snap-chatting my pile of books to show off how much harder my degree is than yours, than actually getting on and doing my degree. What is life? So rather than getting down to it, I went off to Edinburgh to stay with my best friend, catch up with other old school chums and get in touch with my Scottish roots.

It was the best of weekends, although I probably ought to have seen more of the city itself so I could wax lyrical about its beauty and historicism. Alas, no. On the Friday some very charming and well dressed boys brought over a pretty lethal crate of red wine (that’s how they do it up there, forget the MD and ketamine debauched supper parties of Leeds) for a supper party and hence my Saturday was spent curled under the covers in my friend’s room. I was comforted by the fact that the city of Edinburgh is a classified UNESCO world heritage site, so I was being cultural merely by lying in it. Having visited Edinburgh a number of times with family and done all the sightseeing stuff, I think it was equally educational to discover the city’s vibrant student culture and how its hangovers compared to Leeds.
After delighting everyone on Friday with my chat about how ‘edgy’ our fair city is, and probably how edgy I felt after a few glasses, the next night at a house party one boy asked for regular ten-minute scores on how good/alternative the party was, as quite clearly I am now a renowned authority. Excellent. Sufficient numbers of spaced out party-goers and a nos counter levelled it with Leeds, plus a breast-birthday-cake added a nice touch. Of course I stayed till the end (I had to after going on about Leeds being an ‘edgy-cation’ godammit)...The weekend ended with a walk up Calton Hill, so that I could tell my Scottish mother that I had actually ‘done’ Edinburgh properly. I headed home missing the views and the slightly more glamorous student lifestyle…but at least in Leeds I can wear trainers to a party with pride, and we can be rest assured that our parties go harder.  

Winter Coat + Ice Cream = Of course 

Coat - Vintage, Poloneck - Zara