Totally Topiary

 In a day that is darkened by debt, despair and a supposed hurricane in the U.K, it's important to look for the light hearted moments of life and so, as my own personal contribution to this noble aim, I have selected a few particularly outstanding topiary creations.

A much under appreciated art form, hedge sculpting is one of the more whimsical and hilarious things in this wonderfully weird world.

So, I present to you, totally topiary!

Thought it was a proud and long career for the Beatles, their greatest moment has to be being immortalised in topiary form. Once they were done asking us to 'Please please me' and proclaiming 'I am the Walrus' the next logical step was to become commemorated in hedge form. Noteable absence of Ringo from the drums?

 "What does the fox say?"

Although there have been many possible suggestions given by Ylvis, unfortunately we aren't going to discover what the dear ginger creature has been longing to say because the fox is now a hedge.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE

 You don't have to travel to the far corners of Westeros to chance a glance at a dragon anymore. It's not just Miss Stormborn who has access. The lucky gardener of this dragon can feel like a Slayer every time they maintain the dragon's short back and sides crop.






Somewhere in his ever unquenchable quest for honey, this cheeky bear has found himself turned into a forever memorial of optimism. I shall think of him always as singing '99 Luftballoon', longing to fly away from his prison of shrubbery.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lur-SGl3uw8

 I couldn't not include my favourite Disney princess as she dances with dear Charming. Forever dancing in her magic dress, before the pumpkin explosion morning after.

While I have you here: is anyone else alarmed that although Aurora has Phillip and Ariel has Eric, Cinderella and Snow White both have Charming?? Ouch!

 "Don't you want me Baby?" "Hello, is it me you're looking for?" A mascot for all of us Beasts out there, a topiary reminder that sometimes you can be a hybrid monster with amazing strength and a pretty bad temper but people can still manage to capture you and forever make you into an inanimate hedge creature before you have a chance to escape?

On that note, imagine the job of the gardener at Disney World, one minute you're shearing the Beast's beard, the next you get distracted and chop off Mickey's head.

 This little panda has two clear purposes.

1. To remind everyone of that amazing Youtube video that can make even the stoniest of cad have a chuckle. You know which one I mean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk

2. To be placed in front of reluctant pandas in zoos as a means of encouraging them to get knocked up so they too can have cute little Mini Me hedge babies.

Good work.

This guy has the right idea. Run away from the horrors of hedge prisons. Or maybe he is just running away from this somewhat pointless blog post. I shall leave this open to debate.

Hope that was interesting for some people.

Maybe it's because I'm an immigrant...

HELLO WEMBLEY!
I don't know who it was that last shouted that, but needless to say it wasn't me. I'm not performing in Wembley (yet) though I am plenty uncontrollably odd and lovably quirky to be a stand up comedian. Right? right? Well, in saying that, I watched that new show on BBC Three 'The Year of Making Love' and this one girl was a stand up comedian...and she got paid...and she was soooooo unfunny it's not even funny- see what I did there?? So if she can do it, then I sure as heck could take this freakshow on the road ;)

So, you're all probably wondering who I am. Some people know me as Cher. What I mean is, although I never use my name on my blog, you all had probably got to know me quite well through my frequent blog writing whilst (good word that WHILLLLSSSSST) I was abroad and now you're all thinking 'Gee Whiz, she sure doesn't write much anymore, what a pity!' and this is of course assuming you are all cast members of the Brady Bunch with that language...


Well, I am sorry. I have been cowering under a metaphorical rock, waiting for my 2013 to truly begin. The unending application to an unending stream of jobs, waiting in anticipation for the email which undoubtedly reads the equivalent of 'We kind of like you, but you aren't our usual type, so we're going to go for someone who is our normal type but thanks anyway!' Same old, same old- job hunting rejection emails are the same as my teenaged dating rejections I got- not what we normally like but pretty interesting nonetheless. Cool, thanks. That's not to say that there haven't been some highlights in my last two months.

I got my hair cut. At last. So I no longer resemble Mel Gibson as William Wallace. My mother thought I might be able to sell my hair for wigs and it was pretty long so I concurred. As it got snipped off, the hairdresser passed the clippings to my mother who was holding a Tesco bag and collecting. I felt a lot lighter as I left, swinging my bag of hair. Looked it up online, my hair wasn't long enough or in a pony tail. Gutted.

It looks a bit smarter now anyway, and hopefully won't get so in the way of bags, windows and other people's faces anymore.

My animals here at home have become pretty ambivalent. One minute they are lolling all over me, acting rather coquettish, and the next minute they're giving me looks like these.

The dog gave me this charming death glare as we watched Pointless together. I gave an answer she deemed stupid and she turned round and stared at me like this. Priceless. My cat lowered lids and slanted hips might look like a casual 'Come and Pet me' look but it actually meant 'Just Don't.'

So, as you can see, my first two months as a 22 year old have got off to a flying start.

The most annoying thing in the world has happened. I have become an immigrant without realising it. And oh the trouble it is causing me. At the start of February, I finally faced the facts that I wasn't about to get a job after all so I had to bit the bullet and sign on for Job Seekers. Itself a torturous experience in long waiting time, strange looks when you read a Kindle, and staff members asking each other questions that you know the answer to after reading the Web Page one time. But oh no, it was just getting started. After a 45 minute wait, and half a novel, I was finally called to a woman's desk. She said, 'Have you filled in the forms?' 'Yes, I have' I replied, handing it to her.
'Ah, but you haven't filled in the immigration one.'
'What? I'm clearly from here.'
'Were you out of the country?'
'Yes, but only for five months. And I was always still British then.'
'Ah, but you see, if you leave the U.K for more than two weeks, you count as an immigrant.'
All the time I filled in this form, I was thinking in my head 'What?? What?? Seriously, what??' After filling in questions such as 'Have you previously been in the U.K. What dates from and to?' and responding with 'Yes, from 19/12/1990- 05/08/2013' All of my life except the last five months. I then had to be asked questions in person such as 'Were you born in this country?' and having to say, with thinly veiled misery 'Yes.' I literally had the same accent as the woman.
So then she says, 'Have you got I.D. for signing on?' so I present my British Driving Licence. She says, 'Oh, but you're an immigrant. You need to show a passport instead. Can you go home and get it?'
'I have no car.' I reply through gritted teeth.
'Okay, you'll have to come in another time and get it photocopied. We can't process your claim until that happens.'
After another hour of feeling the shame of being an accidental immigrant and an unemployed person, and having to list my qualifications with a tear glinting in my eye, I finally left the office to race home with my father in the car. Since that, he has referred to me as an immigrant in a variety of mean ways, while the ghosts of my past life in a third world country haunt me. Not. I was born 30 miles down the road from the office. To two British parents.
I went back in with my passport, waited another half an hour, finally got it scanned and she said 'I'll send this on for you.'
Got a call yesterday from the claim processing office. 'We need a passport for you.'
'I sent one the other day.'
'We got your driving licence but not your Passport.'
'Well, I did send it.'
'Okay'
*10 minutes later*
'Did you get the inside of your passport scanned?'
'No, she just scanned the information page.'
'We need to see if there are any stamps inside that say you can't live in the U.K or make a claim.'
'There aren't any stamps. I promise. I'm from this country!!!'
'We need to know either way....can you come into the office and get it scanned again?'
'I have no car...I literally can't get in.'
'.....I'll try and process your claim without that info but can't make any promises you'll qualify.'
'Seriously? Ok then.'
'Also, why have you sometimes listed your surname on your forms and sometimes the surname Scullion?'
'What?? I have never used the word Scullion in my life. I literally have no words.'
'Ah, they must have mixed up two different applicants.'

Seriously, Job Centre, seriously??

I'm gonna paraphrase Marina and the Diamonds here 'I'm vulnerable, so vulnerable...I am not an immigrant!' http://youtu.be/S_oMD6-6q5Y

In other news, I might become an immigrant just to justify the amount of hassle it apparently takes for me to get £50 a fortnight. Also, I can guarantee you this: if I get a job, it'll be through my own perseverance, not from their unexistant 'support and guidance'.

Also, I'm writing articles for a website now, feel free to check out my work on www.articlereviewwriters.com! 

An illegal immigrant koala from Brisbane

Hello, and how are you?

Amidst my mass hysteria and extremely busy days of basic unemployment- yesterday I stood in a shop aisle for upwards of three minutes, trying to decide which coffee to buy. On the one hand, I could be a jar of instant, but it is ridiculously expensive here...seriously...and I would most likely poison my veins trying to complete a whole jar in two weeks. On the other hand I could buy a box of sachets. Not the strongest caffeine fix but will definitely get them finished, they are delightfully foamy, and the one I decided on featured a fine ass chocolate companion, amidst the foam of cappucino- I have managed to find a moment to write up my latest blog entry. As I'm sure you all can barely contain your excitement.

I have recently been delighted to discover that country music is finally getting some exposure in the U.K. Only small right now, but there's a definite community arising and there is the first ever country music festival happening in the 02 arena this March. I want more than almost anything to go to what will surely be a milestone of development, but I can woefully ill-afford the weekend pass, even though it isn't over-priced. I'm so fed up of being unemployed, I really am. Ripe time for this old bird to get a job. Tickets go on sale in two days...and I'm yet to come up with a solution as to how I can possibly afford to go...when I literally have less than the cost of a ticket in my bank account :(

Also, apparently Easy Jet are very mean people. They won't let me cancel my flights back to Switzerland after Christmas so I thought I'd change the flights to a different date. Although there is no difference in flight cost, they want to charge me an extra 35 pounds PER FLIGHT to change it...it would literally be as cheap for me to buy new flights. I just want a refund! <:( Wish they didn't have this policy.

In other news, I have had a lovely week since my last entry. I've been away visiting my special someone ;) in St. Gallen for like three full days. And what a marvellous adventure has been had. First of all, there was loads of snow. How absolutely glorious. It seems to be refusing to snow in  Basel so it was an absolute treat to be able to frolick in the snow. I stood waiting for a bus outside at one point, just letting the snow flakes fall down on me like the happiest little freak in the world, a fresh Cappucino in my system, a smile on my face and a dream in my heart... *barf* sorry, had to add that last part when I sounded so gushy. It was an accident, I promise!

It was a great weekend for many reasons, not many more so than the fact that we made two new friends this weekend. There we were, watching a little bit of CBBC on a Sunday morning when a very wonderful thing happened.

Along came a little show called 'Bear Behaving Badly' and two little guys called Nev- who some of you might recognise from a little show called Smile- and...wait for it....Krazy Keith. I don't know if you're aware, but Krazy Keith is, and I quote "An illegal immigrant koala bear from Brisbane, Australia" I hope that has whet your appetite. If not, I might add he has an inanimate bunny girlfriend who he has NUMEROUS conversations with. Oh yes.... television just got real.

The real love affair in our lives began, and there hasn't been a conversation since which has not contained at least one reference to either Keith, Nev, or Keith's STUNNING quote "Streuth! You're one sausage short of a Barby!" Oh how the laughs were had.

I also fulfilled one of my childhood dreams...and I must add here an apology to feminists everywhere, you might want to look away... I got to pretend to be a housewife. Like a cool one, from the 50s. I tidied his house, made dinner, put on some scenic country music and welcomed him home from work with a smile and a hug.

And then we watched Pointless. The ultimate ending to any dream. Well, Alexander and Richard are an amazing team, after all. I don't mean to boast (well actually, that's technically a lie) but I was totally scoring some pretty low scores on the show...in the very near place to being pointless ;)

In other news, we went to see Cloud Atlas in the cinema as well. A much anticipated viewing and one of the best things about living here. Because poor old U.K isn't getting this film until March for some reason. It's kind of ridiculous really, that the film has been dubbed and translated into every language and shown to pretty much every other country by now, but it can't be shown in English. In the original English speaking country... seems a bit weird. Especially as I watched the film in English...in rural Switzerland.


Mind blowingly excellent, confusing and downright bizarre, it's a film I'm not going to forget for a while. The actors' numerous roles and disguises were just...amazing. The sheer vastness and depth of their transformations are something I never could have imagined possible, and what an amazing project it must have been to be a part of it. A stellar decision on the film maker's part to cast big names for every major and minor role. Beautiful.

The days are racing away with me lately, and I know it probably seems like the longest and most pointless countdown you've ever encountered- as I keep mentioning it in every blog- but it is literally only two weeks now until I am at the airport. A fortnight. Fourteen days. This doesn't seem like too much time left. And I'm running out of days here to say goodbye to people, or have last days of fun or try and get my head around the fact that when I leave, I might have to leave as someone who is alone, or forgotten about. Truthfully, there are only about five people who actually want to say goodbye to me. And I'm struggling to figure out whether I should bother having a 'leaving do' or just say goodbye to these few on their own and use my time with goodbyes to the only few people who might actually think of me occasionally after I leave.Why waste my time if I'm only a passing thought in a busy mind? I'm sure the five people here know who they are, and I'm pretty sure I've already been in discussions with all five about what we're gonna do for my last few days here. I hope I am still in touch with them all and that we can meet up other times in our homelands, or if I come back for visits.

What an amazing period of my life this has been, though. If I think back to the place where this blog started out, it's fascinating to track my progress here, and how completely things started to turn around. I was reading my bucket list that I wrote back in August, if some of you were reading back then, and this is shocking news but:
I fulfilled everything on the list.
Everything.

And I know it was only a mini one, for the months until I turned 22, but I did it. I did it all. I became it all. I made it all happen. And I did it all before I reached my birthday. I can't believe it.

So, even if those wacky Mayans are right...although as the wonderful Brad Paisley has tweeted:  "Using the Mayan calendar to say the world is going to end can't be right.The Mayan Swimsuit Calendar has a Miss January." But even if they are right, I'm pretty okay with what I've conquered in the last few months, and how far I've come, and how much I have matured and grown up in so many different ways...and it's given me a pretty laissez-faire attitude to life the last few weeks, as a few lucky people can attest to, of thinking "Well, if the world is going to end, I may as well do what I want to do, and not be scared of anything anymore" and that's a pretty empowering way to think. I guess that's why lots of people preach 'Live like it's your last day on Earth'. True that. Has anybody else been thinking like this lately? If so, I'd love to know I'm not alone in these wackadoodle thoughts.

Mum's the word

Me, dressed as Cinderella. Why? All will be revealed in a later post...

As it was long overdue for me to write a new post, I decided that now was as good a time as any. So, since my last post, I've been working hard (or hardly working) at revision, gloriously intercepting the long boring-ness with random whimsies with my housemates. I've begun to feel very despondent about my exams because on Facebook everybody else seems to be saying 'Done for summer! Finished exams! I'm amazing!' yadda yadda yadda and I've found myself thinking 'Well, great, I won't be done for another 5 and a half weeks, this is gonna be a-maz-ing!'



Anyway, the purpose of this post is
basically to praise my wonderful mother, Hezza, for running a frigging marathon yesterday! I feel

My mum and me

so incredibly proud of her. She hasn't run a marathon in 30 years but managed to only be 15 minutes slower than she was then- 30 years older! I love my mother, she's the best friend a girl could ask for: kind, caring, funny, clever. She gives such amazing advice and always lends a listening ear. She never complains about the many stresses of her multiple-jobbed lifestyle and she is just a wonderful role model. I've often been called Mini-Hezz and I for one take that to be a compliment, I'd love to end up like her.

At the finish line

I know she reads my blog so I wanted her to know that I think she's top bananas. When she completed the race yesterday, my dad and sister were there to see her finish- my sister Suzanne had made chicken enchilada soup (yum!) and gotten Mum fresh flowers and I can predict exactly what Hezza will have responded. 'Ahhh, bliss!' Her trademark phrase, if you will.

She's such an inspiration. How did she manage to run for TWENTY SIX MILES??? I can barely run after a bus! She really puts all of us youngsters to shame, doesn't she?



In other news, apparently there was a tornado through mid England yesterday. Good to see the weather improving, eh?

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes offa you!

Not much has been happening with me. I've been trying to write revision notes, realising I haven't remembered diddily squat from the last year, I made a list of my top ten favourite celebrity men, as did my three housemates, and we basically just shared our choices and dissed each others selections. Every evening we watch Pointless (which if you aren't familiar, is an obscure quiz show where you try and answer the most obscure answers possible) and Eggheads (mostly to make fun of Daphne) and I've also recently started reading and watching 'Game of Thrones' which is pretty amazingly epic and I would definitely recommend it.



Saturday morning, at 7am, I am heading up on the train to Edinburgh to have a weekend with my sister Katherine, who is coming down on a train from Inverness. There'll be a new blog by next Monday, showing the highlights of the trip (most of which will be food!)

To conclude: Mum- you're a speedy gonzalos superhero who I am very proud of. Myself- you need to get a life!

QOTR