Monthly Archives: July 2008

DS Lite

See, too much time on my hands leads to too much browsing of eBay, Figleaves, Be Cheeky, Play and Amazon… Oooh… The DS Lite comes in lime green now? Um…

I can just about afford (a green) one and a couple of pre-owned games but the real question is whether or not it is a good investment. Years back I bought a PSOne and it languishes in its box; I rarely play anything on my laptop, much preferring to er, read or watch things on the screen. It’s not that I am unable to get involved in games- Witness the yelling when my army is routed in Stronghold or that big titted bitch simply will not do as I tell her; things inevitably tail off after a while, and it seems a rather expensive thing to have sit gathering dust.

I’ve never owned a handheld before… perhaps the immediacy of it would increase the chances of me playing it, like I don’t have to plug it in to the TV, faff around with channels etcetera. Plus I could take it places, like my bedroom… or the back garden… or a train. Hmm.

But what games could I get into? I really like the idea of Trauma Centre but i’ve never played any Final Fantasy or Legend of Zelda. The World Ends With You looks interesting but i’m not really into beat-em-ups. Hmm.

I should get one. A lime green one. Whether I will actually get one remains to be seen…

On a not entirely unrelated theme…

BBC News Teacher recruitment advert banned
“An advert that claimed young teachers could earn £34,000 a year in England has been banned by the advertising watchdog for being misleading.

The Advertising Standards Authority said the advert suggested a starting salary about £14,000 higher than the real one of £20,133 for outer London.”

You Should Be Dancing


Tragedy by fuzuoko

Private disco dancing soundtrack of the day: The Bee Gees. Srsly. Totally discolicious and quite frankly awesome to get my covert bikini groove on to.

More Than A WomanStayin’ AliveJive Talkin’You Should Be Dancing… and my personal fave Love You Inside Out– What’s not to like? Well, there are a few… I think if I teamed this with the Greatest Hits of Earth, Wind and Fire a sequined, fringetastic meltdown might just occur. It would be messy.

The Bee Gees – The Greatest (Special edition 2007)

CD1 49MB
CD2 58MB

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The Girls in Their Summer Clothes

Act Like A Man The Girls in Their Summer Clothes
“Some goofball leering and drooling conjures up the mental image of of sweaty, skeezy desperation in a locked bathroom, red-faced and gasping and dirty. I can admit that sometimes male sexuality is like that. But the way I am moved by a glimpse of stocking (or, usually, more) is more along the lines of the way I was moved standing atop a glacier on a mountain in Colorado. There’s sexual arousal mixed up somewhere in how I feel catching a glimpse of cleavage, but there’s also wonder and awe and adoration.”

“And that’s nothing I’m inclined to feel guilty about. It makes the nicest days nicer, and the most unbearable days tolerable. But then you guys already knew that.”
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Week One

Tate Britain Martin Creed, Work No. 850 by ryanfb

So, I am approaching the end of my first week of the Summer break. What have I accomplished?

MR T passed his first MOT for me with flying colours- not a single warning or nothing. Hooray. I went with McCy and Leia Ewok Village to see The Dark Knight; it was all kinds of awesome, if a little on the over long side but definitely worth a second viewing so I can take it all in.

I met up with my Mum and Aunt in Lahndahn tahn and wore a pretty strapless number I found in the sales; it was enjoyable to wander about with my shoulders bare, flashing the tattoo and feeling the air against my skin. I don’t get to get my skin out too often… I felt a little girly.

I had my free lunch (Busaba Eathai) and we wandered around Tate Britain where the undoubted highlight was watching Martin Creed’s piece Work No. 850.

I found it fairly awesome; yes, you can wax lyrical about the potential meaning, interpret it in many ways but the thing I liked it for was the sheer goddamn glee inducement of it. To be browsing the collection in an adjacent room and through a doorway catch a glimpse of someone bombing it down the main gallery is hilarious. It’s exciting and interesting and FUN.

Watch Jon Snow run… Like five feet.

I did something I haven’t done in a lo-n-g time and dropped cash money on DVDs in town; I then watched them- The Thomas Crown Affair (yeah, I know, but it’s got Pie-arse, a strong woman character and Denis Leary and I loves it), Death Proof, Jackie Brown, Eastern Promises and 3:10 to Yuma.


Eastern promises by stovak

Viggo Mortensen was superb as the Russian Mafia “cleaner” Nikolai- restrained and thoughtful, powerful and overly easy on the eye :D Naomi Watts made me want to bash my head against the wall for some reason (I think it might have been the accent); the fight scene in the bath house was *amazing*. I think the ending of the film could have been sharpened up a little; that Watts’ character gets to keep the child struck as uber unrealistic in a film crammed full of realism. I feel like being massively dorky and getting out my Russian Criminal Tattoo Encyclopaedia and looking up Mortensen’s tats. Or not. Ahem.

I took an enjoyable trip to the ENT department (my consultant seems to find me highly amusing); I snuck a look at my notes and read that the consultant I saw last time had written that I was “rather thrilled” to watch the endoscopic procedure I had done. Heh, that’s me to a T- Over excitable when viewing my innards. Simple pleasures and all that.

The verdict- I could go for another operation but I’ve opted not to do so for the moment. I’m going to keep taking the duuurrrgs and put up with occasional pain; if things get really bad then i’ll opt for a spot of butchery.

The weather has been on the hot and sticky side round my way so I have taken the metallic bikini for a trip outside; it was an undercover operation of course- the skimpy bikini covered by vest and shorts. I’m not bored… yet.

I don’t miss going somewhere interesting or hot or exotic too much but what I do miss is the opting out part of a holiday i.e. not having to empty the dishwasher, not having to take the bins out, do washing. I’d like to spend time eating out rather than having to cook, luxuriate in a nice room somewhere where it can be cool and dark and quiet if I want it to be, with no distractions and interruptions, no everyday concerns.

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Detail taken from Greek ceramic piece depicting the Birth of Athena, c. 570 – 565 BC, Louvre. Athena’s the tiny fully-armed one popping out of Zeus’ head. Fun times.

According to some people in this world, PZ Myers is evil. They imply that he should be drinking tea with Hitler and Pol Pot, burning in hell with all the other atheists out there, because he has dared to criticise a university that might throw out a current student because he took away a consecrated Communion wafer.
“It is hard to think of anything more vile than to intentionally desecrate the Body of Christ. We look to those who have oversight responsibility to act quickly and decisively.”
From a Catholic League press release

Ever since Myers wrote IT’S A FRACKIN’ CRACKER! (in which he expressed his disgust at the behaviour of the church and university and appealed for readers to send in any consecrated wafers they could get their hands on) he has been inundated with threatening, abusive emails from “Good Catholics” (my quote marks there) decrying his insensitivity, calling him a coward for not desecrating a Koran and threatening to harm or kill him or his son.

I could understand and accept slightly more easily if the Eucharist represented the body of Christ in a metaphorical way i.e. how when I was young I was brought up to consider Bible stories, but to believe and behave like it was actual bits of flesh and globs of blood from one of your most revered icons and prioritise it over living persons? Whaat?

If you do not believe that the bread and wine *is* the body and blood of Christ and believe it *represents* the body and blood does that not then invalidate everything? Similarly, if you do not believe that Mary got knocked up by God via an Angel, does that then not do the same? How is there any validity to anything you say if you are referencing (Christian) religion? If you can’t believe how one of the main characters came into being, then surely everything else written about them is null and void?

Do many people still believe that Athena was born by exploding out of the head of her father Zeus? So why give credence to the idea that a baby was born without sperm meeting egg? Why base almost an entire belief system around this idea, amongst many others? Prioritise the rights of wafers and balls of cells over fully-formed, sentient human beings? Threaten or kill medical staff who preform abortions? The Earth is 6,000 years old? Really?

Some people might say in defence that a particular religious text is a series of life lessons, to provide guidance, not to be taken literally. That it’s not that harmful. To those people I will put forward my opinion that the Vatican is sanctioning the mass murder of people in African countries by their employees instructing customers to say no to condoms.

The same people might say, oh, it’s not religion that does these things, it’s people – like, guns don’t kill people, people do. If I continue that line of “reasoning” then guns without people do not kill people because they cannot be operated, guns with people to use them kill people… Religion without people does not kill people because it cannot exist, and as an aside in my mind is a man made construct. Oh and pleeease do not get me started on the argument oh, I don’t believe in “organised religion” but I consider myself religious or, like, spiritual. You can have a reverence for something (like Einstein did with regards to nature) that does not involve a supernatural being; the world is wondrous enough without the need for someone on high stage-managing things.

Yes, I know teh internets is the quickest way to bring out the crazies and what is written will often not express the opinion of the majority. However, personally I find it grossly insulting that *anyone* would dare to compare a college student taking home a small biscuit-type-thing that he had been given with that of a kidnapper, someone who causes *actual* bodily harm to living, breathing, anguished human beings. Fuck you for even implying that. As PZ says:

“I think if I were truly evil, I would have to demand that all of my acolytes be celibate, but would turn a blind eye to any sexual depravities they might commit. If I wanted to be an evil hypocrite, I’d drape myself in expensive jeweled robes and live in an ornate palace while telling all my followers that poverty is a virtue. If I wanted to commit world-class evil, I’d undermine efforts at family planning by the poor, especially if I could simultaneously enable the spread of deadly diseases. And if I wanted to be so evil that I would commit a devastating crime against the whole of the human race, twisting the minds of children into ignorance and hatred, I would be promoting the indoctrination of religion in children’s upbringing, and fomenting hatred against anyone who dared speak out in defiance.”
Pharyngula The Great Desecration

You may have gathered that I am in a ranty mood… aaand it’s not even about MW#1. Result. For now.
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Finite Freedom


Just Passing Through by glass window

I’m free
To do what I want
For a uh, finite amount of time

I’m back to part time pay for August and I have work to do over the break. I go back to work at the beginning of September. I don’t have to have a form full of Year 9 bitches. I’m back to yet another one year top up contract rather than a full time permanent one.


I’m very glad to be off for a while… I’m going to amuse myself by taking the yellow wedges out into Lahndahn tahn and have an excellent lunch this weekend courtesy of my Mum’s money. I am going to have to do some work over the break, planning and the like; I also have to do the visiting family thing when i’d really rather not. However, I am looking forward to sitting on my arse, watching films and television for six weeks and occasionally venturing out to get some Vitamin D if it’s not tipping it down. In the unlikely event of sunshine, I might just roll out the blue metallic bikini top. Under a t-shirt. Rock on.

I will dye my hair, paint my toenails and give myself a good squeeze every now and then to check how the overhang is going. I need to take MR T to see if he passes his first MOT for me… Fingers crossed all will turn out well. I also have my annual trip to the ENT department- maybe I will get to experience the bendy fun of the endoscope again. I am going to visit people, do some daytrips and try and avoid the plague of children that will be inflicting the museums and galleries of the Big Smoke. Try and do things on the cheap, not spend much money.

Oh, and I will go and see The Dark Knight.

Back to the overhang :)
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The love of my life / She left me one day

Warmth of the Sun

Tableview Sunset by mallix

Warmth of the Sun
Beach Boys

Fade Away and Radiate

Warmth of the Sun makes me tear up it’s so pretty.

I’m tired :)
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From the ages of seven to twelve

1988 – 1992

These tracks make me happy :D

Voodoo Ray – A Guy Called Gerald – 1988
Theme from S’Express – S’Express – 1988
Big Fun – Inner City – 1988
Pump Up The Jam – Technotronic – 1989
Pacific 707 – 808 State – 1989
Cubik – 808 State – 1990
What Time Is Love? – KLF – 1990
Last Train to Transcentral (Live from the Lost Continent) – KLF – 1991
Something Good – Utah Saints – 1992
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One of the students from my form left her lunch bag in my classroom after a lesson with me; I picked it up intending to put it in the office for safekeeping and noticed that someone had nicked the apple and bottle of water I had seen inside it earlier that day. The now empty bag let me see this:

Little Brown Bag



She is fourteen years old.

During afternoon registration I let her know that I had found her bag; I also let her know that her lunch had been stolen and that I had seen the note taped inside. She was embarrassed. I told her how genuinely sad I was at finding the note and talked to her about body image, growing into yourself, the dangers of comparing yourself to others. I asked if she felt under pressure to look a certain way, she replied that she feels like she has to keep an eye on her weight because she is a gymnast. Sigh.

I regaled her with how I used to be a swimmer and would always feel enormous when compared to the other girls in the team, but that was because I was fifteen and they were much younger. If someone looks at you and comments then that’s their problem, not yours… That everyone in the form is the size they were meant to be and no-one has anything to worry about because they’re all still growing. Look after your body now and it could last you another seventy years, eat healthily, life’s too short to worry about restricting your intake, etc.

This tutee has been an absolute bitch to me over the year but my role as a teacher means that I am a surrogate parent and a social worker… For fucks sake- “Bikini Body in Progress”? I told her she doesn’t have to worry about wearing a bikini. That’s just the sort of shallow shit in whatever stupid women’s glossy they read that seems to equate bikini’s, buying lots of clothes, shoes etc with femininity, maturity, what it is to be a woman.

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Californian Loneliness

Sea Rocks

sea rocks by pbo31

Thanks to Jones & X.Ray on Sunday I discovered ‘Til I Die by the Beach Boys and have been repeatedly listening to it ever since.

It was written by Brian Wilson when he was experiencing a crisis of personal faith- He “wanted to drive (his) Rolls off the Santa Monica pier”. In the middle of the night he drove out to a beach and walked out onto the deserted sand and pondered:
“…feeling shipwrecked on an existential island, I lost myself in the blanket of darkness that stretched beyond the breaking waves to the other side of the Earth. The ocean was so incredibly vast, the universe so large, and suddenly I saw myself in proportion to that, a little pebble of sand, a jellyfish floating on top of the water, travelling with the current. I felt dwarfed, temporary. “
It’s a short, beautiful track that has layers of dreamy vocals that question the nature of being; I love it not because of the slightly gloomy content but because it’s such a gorgeous piece of music, rich and interesting.

I like to listen to it and imagine being on an empty Californian beach with the moon reflecting off the damp sand or driving along a very long straight road at dusk with the windows down and the wind gently rippling through my hair.

‘Til I Die
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Desert Call

Desert Call

Original: Desert Road, Arizona by jul89

I have had an overly good weekend. An awesome one in fact.

Caversham Princess was off visiting family so I luxuriated in spending time I should have been working doing fuck all. Spreading out on the sofa, scattering magazines, leaving dirty dishes out, wandering about in my pants. Eee. On an off chance I invited MW#1 round… He brought himself, 3:10 to Yuma, Ong-Bak and Day Watch and a box of quite frankly disgraceful cheese that Bobby Convey herself would drool over; the odorous dairy products proceeded to pollute my fridge with their noxious fumes, and would escape whenever I went for a glass of milk… He is nothing but generous :D

We squashed on the sofa and drank tasty Pinot whilst he delighted in his cheese and biscuits. Yeah, we are indeed rock stars. 3:10 to Yuma was a fabulous piece of work, gripping and shocking in ways that The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford wasn’t- Ben Foster was outstanding as the vicious crack shot with no heart to speak of, and the whole film was filled with really strong performances. The landscape looked terribly beautiful against the pain being played out in front of it; it has reawakened my desert lust.

Blimey, looking back to when I last wrote about that subject I am struck by how badly written it is. I mean, if you think things are bad now, take a read of this. There are a few good parts though… I quote:
“When you nuzzle a boulder it smells baked like bricks whilst the scrub smells resinous. Very different from the mixture of gasoline and orange blossom I associate with Florida. The sounds you hear are the wind blowing through the canyons and rustling the trees, birds singing, cicadas and not much else, it’s so quiet. Looking at the rocks, scrambling around, leaving a little blood from your knee, running your hands around the bowl of a dry water pocket, licking the rock and watching your saliva disappear into the fiery grains.”
Yeah, seemingly I didn’t do compound sentences or semi-colons back then. Moving on…

So i’ve only been to a desert once in my life, but my brief visit left quite an impression. I would love to find somewhere private, strip off and lay my body out across the sandstone, feel the curves nestle against the small of my back and the hot sun flush across my skin. 3:10 is set in Arizona, which is where the MW#1 mentioned Painted Desert is located; the film was actually filmed in New Mexico, and an image strongly associated within my head is thus:

Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico
Ansel Adams

Gorgeous, ain’t it? Prints are just a little expensive, too.

So now I have longings to go somewhere hot and sunny and beautiful with someone who will indulge my odd textural lustings. Oh dear.

So we squashed, we watched and we ate and drank. We moved on to Ong-Bak, a Muay Thai martial arts film, so of course it possessed a plot so slender and dubious that Amy Winehouse would be proud. The martial arts were superb however, even if the plot were woeful, but I must admit that by the time the story had fiiinally tied itself up, MW#1 was snoring and I could barely keep one eye open to follow the action.

Why is your starfish covered in bandages?

I introduced MW#1 to Patrick :) The two of them managed to negotiate appropriate amounts of space in my bed, and for the first time in years I had someone living and breathing (and snoring) to hug who could hug me back, and my bed didn’t feel as big and lonely.

Intimately-wise, things have been especially good of late, at least from my perspective; this weekend there were no prior experience-induced tears, just lots and lots of smileyness. Muy excellentay. Things have always been excellent in the bedroom but I feel they have been a bit different lately, like things are being discovered, new intimacies gained. As much as I like a pitch black fumble, I’m a proponent of a little low lighting if it’s available, and during these times i’ve noticed that he watches me very closely, I mean really studies my face, my eyes, my expression.

He has always picked up on the small things – the traces of lipstick on my teeth waay back at the Metallica concert – (hello 2003); since the lights-on sessions began I feel more connected, more relaxed and able to just “be”. Funny how a simple change in light level can effect things… Course, I feel more connected but does this mean I really am?

I am still completely unable to tell him how much he means to me. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him because I am afraid that he will not return my thoughts, it’s that I feel I can’t because it’s wrong. I have to struggle to stop myself from saying it, even though sometimes it seems to want to burst through my chest right at *the* most inopportune moments. I categorise it on same index card of stupidity as “Let’s go somewhere together. On holiday, like. We’d totally have an awesome time.” and “Tickets to the next UFC pay-per-view? In Vegas? And the flights? You shouldn’t have…” or “… and I opened the white box and there in the tissue paper nestled the lingerie set I had lusted after for months…”

Gems, the lot of them.

Back to the rock star action… He ate toast naked of butter or jam or anything, which I found rather strange- Me who given the chance will happily munch on frozen fish fingers. Pot. Kettle. Anyway… We watched Day Watch to round off the weekend; I can now say with some certainty that Night Watch and Day Watch are possibly *the* most incomprehensible films I have ever seen. The subtitles did not help. This is quite bad when watching a foreign film, and something I have not encountered before. Like, what the fuck?

Thankfully he removed his stinking box of cheese from the fridge before he made his way out into my slightly rougher side of town; I am sure he got rained on…

So I had a lovely weekend… Unfortunately it was another where I spent many moments feeling overly happy and comfortable in MW#1’s presence, and A GOOD THING was demonstrated, again.

Le sigh.
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The Emotional Conquistador, The Male Body Clock and One Night Stands

I stomped my feet up the stairs in my building and realized that I’d just been used. Now I think that emotional scar tissue I already had is turning into a fucking keloid. I totally just got emotionally played. And even though my glasses are currently blurry from a dried grey mixture of salty tears and black mascara, I see clearly now that I don’t blame the player, I blame the game.

Slut Machine @ Dudes Today: The Emotional Conquistador Is The New Sexual Conquistador
(read the comments)

The sexual and feminist revolutions were supposed to free women to enjoy casual sex just as men always had. Yet according to Professor Anne Campbell from Durham University in the UK, the negative feelings reported by women after one-night stands suggest that they are not well adapted to fleeting sexual encounters.

Science Daily: Women Have Not Adapted To Casual Sex, Research Shows

Scientists say they have found more evidence that men as well as women have biological clocks and that they start to tick in their mid-30s. A French study of over 12,200 couples having fertility treatment suggests the chance of a successful pregnancy falls when the man is aged over 35. It adds that the chance is significantly lower if he is over 40.

Science Daily: Male Biological Clock Also ‘Ticking’: Fertility Problems Greater For Men Over 35

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Thanks so much for fucking up

Money Money Money

Queen of £ngland by Moh Tj

Some good news today- My tax was fucked up, so I am due a tax refund for the year just gone. Huzzah! Although I have read through how they came up with this windfall I am still unable to work out how I have managed to earn £600 back, so I am a bit worried that they might have made a mistake. Never mind… positive thinking… I may be able to survive the Summer slightly more comfortably…
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Fat Black Tears

Don't Know Why, There's No Sun Up In The Sky

A Storm Brewing by Creativity plus Timothy K Hamilton

I am spending today hunkered down on the sofa in the half-light of the front room in an effort to recover from a night out with MW#1 to celebrate his birthday. I am not feeling particularly good.

The evening was lovely yet terrible: lovely because I had a wonderful time feeling relaxed and happy as we dodged the rain and slowly consumed a bottle of red as we ate pie. Just sitting and being, no fuss. Terrible because at several points through the evening I could not help thinking “Dude, isn’t it absolutely crystal clear that this is A GOOD THING? Hello?!” It is difficult to have such an excellent time and know that he wants my company on an infrequent basis.

So things were excellent and yet at the same time not so much; things continued in a similar vein later on back at his. Consideration, patience, perseverance and gentleness… my dorky well-being was the *utmost* priority. I pondered a while “Is this what it feels like to be truly physically loved? Am I being made love to?” Then something went awry: He did not hurt me *in any way* but in the course of things I experienced a really intense sensation that completely threw me for a loop.

For a couple of seconds I was taken to a place I really did not want to be that I thought I had left behind a long time ago. MW#1 stopped immediately upon my say so but my body reacted to the feeling and suddenly I was crying and apologising and feeling deeply ashamed of myself.

My thick black eye makeup dripped down my face where I proceeded to smear it on my forehead and cheeks- basically anywhere I could to try and stop the inky rivulets from making their way onto his sheets. I was embarrassed at crying in front of him, then I was embarrassed because I was leaving sooty little smudges everywhere.

MW#1 spent the next five minutes gently wiping my face with some of the 9000 tissues he had apparently got from Costco whilst I lay prostrate and sniffling; the hot black tears continued to slowly ooze out of me but eventually I was able to do something other than choke up.

I explained that the sensation was too intense for me and apologised again, this time because I felt like I had let him down. I feel like that because I am fed up of feeling defective, I am frustrated that he has to feel that he is doing wrong when it’s my body or brain letting me down. I don’t want to feel that way any more.

He told me that I did not have to apologise, for letting me down or crying in front of him or for anything at all; that I do not let him down and that it is okay to cry in front of him. I clung to him confused and scared and damp like this primate’s life depended on it.

He had to go to work spectacularly early for a Sunday, so I curled up in his bed alone and did my best impression of a warm relatively dry slug for a few hours. I listened to the rain attack the windows and the wind try and carry away rubbish bins. I tidied myself up, stared at myself in the mirror for a while and thought “What’s wrong with me?” whilst I washed the dark sludge out of my eyes and then went and got some McMedicinal, before I taxi-ing home to the sofa.

Of all of it what has really freaked me out is that brief, curious, really not wanted sensation and where it took me. It’s fucked my day up something rotten, ambushing me and forcing me to think about things I really do not wish to contemplate, the past and the future yet to be. Ugh.
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Cost of Living

BBC: UK life costs ‘at least £13,400’
“A single person in Britain needs to earn at least £13,400 a year for a minimum standard of living, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) has claimed.”
That’s excluding rent. So, lets add on my what I would say is a low average rent for sharing a house in my area and see where we end up, shall we…? Right, so that’s just under 18k in total, to live to a minimum standard of living.

No wonder so many people are upping sticks to Australasia and Canada… Although life is getting pretty ridiculous educationally, cost and society-wise, emigrating seems just a step too far for me… If I had someone to go with and a job to go to (or failing that, a skip full of their money) then I might be persuaded, but honestly, I love living in this fucked up, broken, dirty country… :)

Telegraph: Canada wants British workers to emigrate
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