Saturday, 20 May 2017


Outernet is those little magic moments like that puffy cloud of milk in tea or coffee when your pour it in, or that dark-reddish-dark-blue sky in the small bathroom window, or the bubbly smile of a small toddler, or the hug of a dear friend.

Internet may be that. Recorded. On a screen.


Outernet is the laughing and the happy raw sobbing after an amazing movie. It's the taste of good food and the feeling of group hugs or bro-pats. 

Internet may be that. Recorded and on a screen. Through videos and pictures and hashtags and blog posts and facebook posts and gifs and snapchat filters.


Outernet is the experiences of the Holy Spirit, the personal intimacy between yourself and your Saviour; the unexplicable joy of Faith and Hope and Purpose and Joy. 

Internet or any form of media, word, picture, statement CANNOT do that. That's so real and NOW and gah, it's so outernet. It's OuterLIFE. It's something out of this world and something further than the skope of human recording and explaining. Something so unexplainable. 


It just is.

Yes, I am very grateful for the Internet and I love blogging and I've met dear dear friends online and I've seen Internet being used in really good and inspiring ways. But man, it's so easy to be all about the online life when seriously, it can mess up your brain because I think our generation does not really fully understand what it's like to live in the now. It's more like 'live in the now and wait yeah let's make sure everyone KNOWS we're living in the now.' That's not the same.

Also, the obsession of wanting to know what everybody else is up to! Like, it's great to keep in touch with friends but personally, I know I take this to far. I'm living MY LIFE. And that's a life with a lot of purpose and potential because of the God I serve - and the way I live my days is obviously the way I live my life. (Wow, I need to hear these words myself. I'm basically educating myself here, seriously.) Yes, I like knowing what my friends are up to but becoming obsessed with that the way the Internet encourages us to be is just unhealthy. 

There are so so many priorities.

I try again every day! It's hard for me, I'll admit. But I'll keep on trying.

I got myself an Instagram account several months ago and I love it - it's really cool and yeah, it's fun. But I also really, really hate it. Sometimes its become my worst enemy and I have to really tell myself to STOP being on it because really it shouldn't be able to control me. I am a human being and that's AN APP. We should be able to not coexist and we should be able to be really separate 90% of the time. 


The main thing that annoys me about Instagram (and I guess the internet as a whole) is how I feel like I have to document all the 'fun' things in my life.

Like, I'd almost like to start a challenge. Here's the challenge guys. Do something really fun and beautiful and DON'T TELL/SHOW ANYONE. JUST DO THE THING AS IT IS THE THING. Make it a memory encarved in the brain rather than a picture with emoji comments and 145 likes or whatever. Go out with a friend and have an ice cream with sprinkles and DON'T POST THE PIC YOU TOOK. Just take a picture for you and make it your special nice ice-cream-date day. Go to the cinema with that rad group of pals and actually forget about posting about it online. Not saying it's not special when you do tell people about it and post it online and I'm not saying there's something wrong with doing that but ya know... ARE WE CAPABLE OF DOING THAT? (Also yelling at myself here, mind you. ;-))

I had an amazing evening yesterday, for instance, and this morning. (And yes right now I'm talking about it online haha but hey, it's to make a point ;-P) I went to Youth Group and then went a slept over at a friend and we had midnight talks about Jesus and faith struggles and deep topics and it was awesome. But then at one point I was thinking in the back of my brain I must take a selfie with her tomorrow morning so I can post about this awesome evening.

Like nooooo. That's not the point. (I didn't do it and I'm glad I didn't.)

Sometimes I feel like a day becomes less special after I post about it. It's like the lovely day and personal meaning become a picture and a 'look I have a life' status. Even though I don't mean it that way, I feel like it feels that way sometimes and it soooort of makes the memory less special for me. I don't know. Some thoughts. :-P

What do YOU think? Do you struggle with this too? (Maybe you're like nope I don't relate at all in which case good for you.) I WANNA DISCUSS THIS. Let's have a deep discussion in the comment section. :-) 

(Also, I challenge you to do something really cool - go out with a group of friends or whatever, go somewhere very instagram-feed-pleasant, and don't post anything about it. JUST TO SEE IF YOU CAN.)

PS: Pippa Middleton wedding dress. Google it. I want it. So. Gorgeous.

Monday, 8 May 2017

7 images + 7 thoughts

1. Sometimes you've just gotta curl up in bed and watch an old black-and-white movie. I did that the other day. (That is, several weeks ago.) I watched Top Hat on my phone and it was uncomfortable and I had a stiff neck but it was fine. Not the best movie, and some stuff in it made me roll my eyes but Ginger and Fred are a fine duo and nothing beats their tappin' shoes and her swoony gowns next to his dapper tux. You've got to love these two. Pretty classic. (*Goes off singing I'm fancy free, I'm free from everything faaaancy*)

2. Just a random picture of a couple holding hands. I like me some sappiness. Also I love the sleeves of the wedding gown. I do like a wedding dress with long sleeves. I was looking at Kate Middleton's wedding dress the other day (because t'was their wedding anniversary last month so I had such a legitimate reason you know) and for real, her dress was a beauty.

3. Give me this outfit. Rather cute. And yes, I know this post is random.

4. Okay, so walls. I LOVE A GOOD WALL. I need to redo mine because I keep on seeing such artistic and wanderlustlike pictures of walls filled with gorgeous things that mine feels like a two-year-old's handywork. I love the boho-feel of this one here. (I'm rolling my eyes at my randomness right now. But I know you don't mind. And neither do I. #randomnessforthewin.) (The only thing I don't like about random posts is that they're kind of embarrassing if someone I know 'in real life' reads my blog. There's something about random posts that makes me sound embarrassing. But write the posts I shall.)


6. So this was a pin on pinterest and it says "Does it bother anyone else that there are parts in your life that you don't remember? You have done and said things that you don't even know about anymore. That means you don't even have the right perception of yourself because you don't even fully know who we are. However, something you have forgotten about could be a prominent memory in somebody else's mind. It trips me out." << That made me think and feel powerless. I love things that remind us of how powerless and small we are and how we don't have our own existence under control because it makes me trust all the more in my God.

7. Ah, Ecclesiastes. The book where I can underline all verses to claim them my favourite. And now I've discovered another. Here's the whole verse: "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet  no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end." Isn't that beautiful? I find it hard sometimes to remember that eternity is what really matters - in fact, it's the only thing that lasts and thus the only thing that matters. No matter how exciting summer planning is, no matter how stressful exams are... eternity has been stitched into my heart. (The translation with the word stitched in it... I love it.)

I'll be off. Hope everyone's doing well. Enjoy the last shreds of blossom while they're there; a great summer is looming ahead. (Yes, Aussies, not talking to you. ;-))

Monday, 1 May 2017

You are beautiful in a non-cliché way.

Confession time: I roll my eyes at stuff like, "YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL." And "BE YOU." And even the plausible "YOU ARE UNIQUE."

When I was fourteen, I used to hang these kinds of words up on my wall. I was all about the positive-Pinterest-y-Naomi's-da-bomb-because-she-says-she-is-phase. I was like 'boo yeah I'm Me' and honestly, I was getting excited about nothing. I was doing it in selfish la-di-da-feelsies and I needed those words to make me feel good. I needed constant convincing.

Then I realised that wow, God, I need to humble myself; I am a sinner; and I should not be who I am by human nature because without you, I am nothing. I still agree with all of this, of course, but I had a phase where I swung a little too far in the opposite direction. I was like, nah, we shouldn't be ourselves because what if you're selfish by nature? We should strive to be who God wants us to be.

THAT IS ALSO TRUE. We all naturally have sin and the 'BE YOU' phrase should not mean 'be who you aaaaarrree and get druuunk and steaaal and sleep arouuund because that's who you aaarrreee.' In a sense, we should, therefore, not be who we are as humans in a world of sin. We should strive to be as non-human-like as possible.

But I took this idea too far for a while, I think. We are creations of God and to disregard the 'you are perfeeect' message is saying that God does not create people perfectly. I mean, God made us unique, right? So now I'm sort of re-learning the non-cliché-ness of the cliché message: "You are beautiful just the way you are. You are unique. Be yourself."

Yes, I still roll my eyes at that. Because let's be real, it is overdone and it's pretty stupid when you forget about the Maker. It is stupid when you leave out the Very Reason Why we are beautiful and unique and the Reason why we can achieve amazing things and why we should be confident in our own quirks and our personal dreams and talents. If you're just like, drumming it in yourself: I am epic. I am cool. I am hashtag queen.... then I'm like, "OKAY. WHY."

And the reason why is God. And theeen it all makes sense. Then self-love becomes a beautiful, important thing rather than this selfish cliché thing for 'positive vibes's sake. Yes, socially, some are prettier than others. I'm not going to deny that. Some are more talented. Some are in better condition. 

But isn't everyone worth the same sacrifice of Jesus?

If you're think you're not unique and special and beautiful, then you're saying God's not a good artist. AND HE MADE THIS:

(random picture from pinterest duh)

I want to quickly change the subject and talk about mountains. I love love love mountains. There are literally no ugly mountains in the world. Each one is different and each one is wretchedly perfectly gorgeous. Why... WHY are they so beautiful? "Just because they... are." No, no, not satisfied with that answer. WHY ARE THEY SO RIDICULOUSLY GORGEOUS. Why did my heart fill with this swell when I stood on one last year at the Alps in France; looking down on clouds and sunshine and rocks and white tops and trees. WHY. Why is rock and tree so beautiful? WHY. Why. 

I'll tell ya why. God. It's a snippet of God's glory.

And us then? Aren't we snippets of God's glory? Aren't we? Aren't we the one creation made in God's image? 

WHAT IS WRONG WITH US. Why do we not think we are beautiful?! Unique? Each and every one of us individually and specially designed with a different purpose?!

Today I wrote a kids book. It's only 16 pages and 500-something words; with tons of blank spaces for pictures I haven't drawn yet (and will probably not be that pretty.) It's written in rhyme (bringing out my inner Dr Suess here ya know) and it's about this 'perfect' mountain who tells all the other mountains that they're not good-looking with their weird shapes and rocks sticking out in odd places, and then a girl comes along and she can't believe that these mountains believe that they're not beautiful. 

Have you ever seen an ugly mountain? Well, God has never seen an ugly person. 

That's the little moral of the story. Anyway. I made it on a whim because it is an important message, and I'm kinda proud with the way it turned out, so I'll show you the last two verses.

No matter how spotty, different, dirty and sooty 
Listen to God because He should know about beauty 
He made those mountains, and He also made zillions of stars, 
He made little lambs, colourful flowers and huge planets like Mars 
And the One that made all these gorgeous things, 
The lions, the colours, the rainbows, the birds’ tiny wings  
He also decided to make you; I know, it’s kinda bizarre, 
But that means that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Yes, you are beautiful. Yes, you should accept yourself and embrace your quirks.  Yes, you are more beautiful in God's eyes than mountains are to your eyes. Yes, you are a sinner and probably not that beautiful on the inside. But you're covered by a huge love; your worth is tons and you are crazy beautiful as a result.

But please remember who to give the credit to. 

Thursday, 27 April 2017

The Reliable Hope

Yes, there are tears. Tears of heart-break and stress. Tears that completely wear out every bone in a body; sobs that heave a being up and down in complete sadness.

But there are also tears of joy. Like when the war heroes returned from home alive; like when the girl took off her make-up and realised she was beautiful just like that; like when an audience heaps onto each other with tears of laughter because that comedian has a whole lot of funny bones.

Yes, there are blind people; people with legs chopped off, people with just three fingers, people who can't hear simple things like eggs sizzling in oil on the stove, and there are people with shocking disabilities that get shocked stares.

But there are beautiful eyelashes, smiles filled with gratitude and beauty, strong handshakes with friendly grips; people with vocal chords big enough to blow off arena roofs; people with those amazing bear-hugs.There are millions of people breathing God-made oxygen; able to do amazing things with the air and energy they take for granted.

Yes, people are dying - people who haven't said sorry and don't know Jesus. People that are very much loved and that will be missed so, so much.

But there is sunshine - golden and glorious, keeping this earth-ball spinning and preventing you from freezing to death. There is love; love and passion and people trying it out; failing; trying again. There is beautiful music - a soothing violin practising for a concert in the basement, gospel choirs screaming with joy. There are babies being born; new life with new possibilities. There are talented genes and quirky winks. There is laughter - that booming, hearty, excellent noise that means happiness.

Yes, people die in wars. People get hurt in more ways than physical, with blood and scars.  Yes, people are lonely. People are tortured; beaten; abused.

But there's God. Always.

There's Jesus, who died for you. Jesus, who is the God who made the mountains and the oceans and the starry constellations, who came to save you in the humble form of a man, unrecognisable with blood and pain on the cross. Jesus, who will one day take you into a world where the hope we need with our tears and pain will be 100% fulfilled. Jesus, who turned all the sadness upside down.  

There's hope, and it's real.

Saturday, 22 April 2017

The Cat in the Hat, unanswered questions, and Speculaas biscuits.

(Before I commence; I will be pasting random pictures of delicious food in this post. From Pinterest. Prepare to get hungry.)

Evie tagged me with the Sunshine Blogger Award and I do like a list of random questions so without further - no never mind, I'm not going to say 'without further ado' because I feel like that phrase is so overused (and besides, I haven't ado-ed yet, have I?) - without further delay - no, because two sentences doesn't imply delay-ment - without further explanation - NOPE BORING - okay, how about without further unnecessary rambling... here goes.

If you skipped the first paragraph; good for you. Don't feel bad about it.

Do you have any family heirlooms?
This might make our family sound like the most boring, uninteresting family ever... but I can't think of anything. My grandparents have quite a few things though (PHEW WE ARE NO LONGER BORING) that we've used as well - a christening robe, for instance, that my great-granddad wore as well as my granddad, my dad, my uncles, my brothers and 10+ of my cousins (yep, it's completely falling apart) - but I don't personally own any family heirlooms. There ya go. Welcome to my interesting life filled with history and nostalgia, guys.

Opinion on letter writing?
Oh no. Hate it. :-P
Note the sarcasm, ma'am. Sir, note it. Sarcasm.

Do you prefer tea, coffee or cocoa?
What do I prefeeeeerrr. Not coffee. Coffee's... black muck. It's... yeah, black muck. Not that I've seriously attempted to taste it, but it's black muck. No, don't attack me in the comment section. Tea? I like tea, but the taste can render to boredom. It has a certain taste of insipidity, if one overdoses it. You know? Cocoa is not my favourite either. (PLEASE DON'T CALL ME A SPOILT BRAT.) I like cocoa though. Especially after a long windy walk. So cocoa, I guess. (Although I call it Hot Chocolate Milk.) (Just saying.)

Whats your favourite children's story?
I have quite a few, so I'll go with the first one that pops into my head.
The Sun did not Shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house, all that cold, cold, wet day. I sat there with Sally; we sat there, we two. And I said: How I wish we had something to do. Too wet to go out; too cold to play ball...
(That was the Cat in the Hat. Got it memorised to prove my loyalty towards it.)

What movie or Period Drama ending really frustrated you? And how would you change it?

Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?
I have no idea. It's in God's hands. And that means I'm fine with whatever it is.

What makes you nostalgic?
See here. A blog post devoted to answer the question. Basically, old childhood favourites (specifically Astrid Lindgren, Little House, etc), old camera film rolls, big chunky computers.

If you had to describe yourself as an animal, what would it be?

If a loved one was to serenade you, what song would you most like them to sing?
I wouldn't mind a top hat and tail's singing 'I'm putting all my eggs in one basket' from Top Hat. In twilight, with me looking like Ginger Rogers. Of course we'd magically possess amazing tap-dancing skills to end the night with. In dazzling syncopation. With a brass orchestra to boot. And back-up dancers. In silver dresses and white suits.

If you could change your name to anything what would your new name be?
I've had this question before and I can never answer it. Uh. Maybe I shouldn't do tags. :-P

Whats your favourite biscuit to dunk?
I love dunking (I actually didn't know this was a word and had to look it up) (I admit all, you see) Speculaas biscuits in hot chocolate. Man, it's the best thing ever. Especially after a long windy walk. (You should've known that if you've read all the answers attentively in this post. Naomi likes hot chocolate after long windy walks. Not that she takes many long windy walks. But she should because hot chocolate.)

That's it, people.

Have an amazing day today; do something cool. If you're feeling sad, reading Lamentations is actually really therapeutic, and a warm snuggle in a warm bed with a never-before-read book is quite lovely too. I'd recommend The Sweetest Thing by Elisabeth Musser. Or Gone with the Wind. I'd also recommend eating white chocolate eggs with brown fillings (those, I have learnt, are my favourites), and, of course, always always always remember and never underestimate the power of: ✝

Thursday, 20 April 2017

100% quirk

(oh boy, this post is random)

If you have a rainbow coloured umbrella,
If you like pepperoni pizza best,
If you sometimes crave a good hug,
If you feel alive when the sky is pink with evening dusk,
If you think the best evenings are those evenings when you forget what you look like,
If you love a well-written sentence; a funny-sounding word,
If you like good, snappy, witty, quirky dialogue,
If you like playing around with microphones in an empty-ish church,
If you sometimes just randomly make cookies,
If you have really unique wallpaper,
If you have a pair of super bright shoes,
If you remember random cute kids you saw on public transport,
If you smile more than you frown,
If you love a bouncy Quentin Blake illustration,
If you need some cheesy, popular music sometimes to get back into a good mood,
If you listen to super, super old music,
If you get a sudden, huge energy wave after a random picture, blog post, or conversation,
If you have a radio in your room like my 13-yr-old brother,
If you secretly lol at those beauty gurus that have an obsessive disorder with eyebrows,
If you gush over handsome pairs of beautiful eyes,
If you didn't manage (yet) to take a picture under the blossom,
If you've made up a different world in your head,
If you always choose the same Easter eggs because you can't trust the ones you haven't tried yet,
If you think Easter's the happiest day of the year,
If you 'just can't' with ridiculously gorgeous views,
If you roll your eyes at modern 'art.'
If you have a weird phobia like me and metros,
If you have your own definition of wanderlust,
If you love to try new ice-cream flavours because duh, every one is great,
If you wish you could write like Harper Lee managed to,
If you hunger after the Word of God,

... chances are you're pretty cool.

Monday, 17 April 2017

Happy Easter + Stuff

(I know it's random, but here's a pretty picture of candy floss.)

I know I'm a day late, friends, but Happy Easter! This past week has been amazing. Amongst the choir rehearsals, solos, actually having a social life, doing schoolwork, I spent so much time just thinking and contemplating at the most amazing event of history - Jesus dying an excruciating death so unimaginably below His glorious name and then completely turning that upside down by raising to life and resurrecting. It's just OVERWHELMING HOW MUCH IS IN THIS STORY. And how MUCH IT'S ABOUT YOU. It's crazy. I can't tell you how refreshed I feel about it... this week has been so good.

So Happy Easter. :-)

(Emma just sent me this pin on pinterest with the message, 'our men.' You guys, there is a reason we're friends.)

"Why do they call it Highclere Castle? Why don't they just call it Downton Abbey?" --- My dad when he helped me order tickets to visit it. Yes, why yes, you heard that correctly, folks. I am going to visit Downton Abbey and I'm pretty excited about that, as you may well imagine. It's in September, but y'know, I have patience for things worth having patience for. (A friend of mine visited Lyme Park (aka Pemberly) two weeks ago. Now that's also on my bucket list. I mean duh.)

Oh and guess what I saw last week?! YEP THE ONE AND ONLY BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. It was so so so good. The music was EPIC, let me tell you - I wasn't familiar with the music having never seen the animated version and having never really cared about the story, but now I sing it *ahem* a lot *ahem*. Gaston was SO GOOD. Like, so wickedly handsome and oozing with vanity and just YES. He was my favourite character, which sounds weird, but he was. :-P I loved Emma Thompson's Mrs Potts and Chip and the Beast and THE ENDING.

IT WAS PRETTY EPIC. It made me very happy indeed which was a pleasant surprise because I honestly didn't think I was going to love it so much. :-)

I read through the four passion stories in the Gospels this week. Loads of things stood out to me and I can't possibly describe the extent of peace and love and beauty I found in the story, but I can briefly point out one cool thing I noticed. Which is in John 17 verse 20 - where Jesus prays for all believers. "I pray also for those who will believe in me through their (the disciples) message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you." As I was reading it, it struck to me -- Jesus was praying for Me. Whoahh. (I mean, he also died for me so yeah, you'd think I'd get used to this Jesus + Me = Deep love and personal thing, wouldn't you?) 

Also, the 'A new commandment I give unto you: Love one another as I have loved you." AS I HAVE LOVED YOU. That's a whole new level sort of love. Challenging stuff but seriously, let's try again and again.

Now I'm going to send Emma a letter. The last time I did that was beginning of March so it's been awhile. Happy Easter, peeps. x

(Oh, and what do you think of my new blog look? It reminds me of the olden days and I love it. It'll be up for a while, methinks.)

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

Some discombobulated thoughts on Call the Midwife season 6

(First a picture of Barbara because she's my favourite.)

(And a gif of the gals having fun on the beds. I always love those scenes.)

Hello there!!!! Happy April, people. Hope your March was good. My March included me and my mother watching Call the Midwife season 5's Christmas Special and Call the Midwife season 6. We have one more episode to go tonight and we have the Christmas Special to go, too, but I consider myself a Season Six know-it-all already.

Thus, here are some discombobulated thoughts. With spoilers, subjective opinions and unladylike squealing thrown into the mix. (Of course.)

The Christmas Special was really good. At first I thought them going to Africa was a desperate call for something different, but the change of setting and scene did Call the Midwife good, I think. The difficult situations in the poor country such as the lack of water gave the story some extra grit (not that call the midwife doesn't have any in Poplar.) I liked that Trixie bought her nail polish along; that was funny. Like really; you're going to Africa and still #priorities.

And I LOVE FRED. He's the best. He was helping the birth under the tree with such sincerity, the dear old chap.

Mannnn, let's give Trixie a shout-out. She did a Cesearan section by HERSELF and wow that scene was tense. The way she dug her hands in the belly was weird (the belly was weird... you could easily see it was a prosthetic belly - I mean, I've seen pregnant woman and their bellies don't look so triangular when lying down) and it annoyed me that they didn't mention sewing the belly back together again (did they?!) but man, Trixie. She's so strong. I loved the scene afterwards where Trixie sits down speechless, like, "Wow. What did I just do?" and Barbara told her she deserved a cigarette.

Tom and Barbara's engagement scene with a blade of grass was freakin' cute. As was that teeny scene where they take a picture of Barbara kissing Tom's cheek and she laughed and said, "ugh you smell." D'awww. I mean, what do you expect guys. (I will do some proper Tom + Barbara squealing later on, of course. I simply do not write CTM blog posts without doing a thorough Tom and Barbara appreciation paragraph. :-P)

I do not condone the Patsy + Delia romance plotline, but I need to give Pats a shout-out because her fashion taste is pretty stellar. Also, I love Delia's hair. She always looks adorable. Patsy leaves to Hong Kong to help her dying father and I have to say, I was happy about that because it meant less Patsy and Delia scenes which I need to skip. But having said that though, Patsy is a cool gal and I hope she's doing well over there. But I also hope she stays there a while.

Mannnnn, Nurse Crane is a darling. (Yes, I wrote down Queenie first because this actress always will be Queenie to me. It's like Michelle Dockery. She's Lady Mary.) I felt for her so badly when the accident happened - I want to hug her. She's not my favourite character but I like her a great deal better than I did at first.

Also, I love Sister Winifred. Her cheerfulness and youthful glee is adorable.

Trixie looking good, as always. Her hairstyles and outfits hardly ever let me down.

 Okay, so this dude? (I'm not going to paste a full-face picture because I don't like him. :-P But if you want to know what he looks like, here's a picture of that cheesy dentist.) TRIXIE WHY DO YOU PICK THE WRONG MEN. Trixie is like the Edith in Downton Abbey when it comes to men, and I hope that one day she'll find her Bertie Pelham. And I refuse to accept that this Christopher divorced-dentist-creepy-flashy-teeth guy is him.

Christopher annoys me. No. I do not like this plot line at all. Go. Shoo. (Seriously when I heard he was divorced I was like noooo he annoyed me already but now it's worsened.) Trixie comparing that to her alcoholic problem bugged me too.

Yeah, so I'm looking forward to that plotline leaving. Hopefully soon. (Also he's not even handsome.)

Sister Monica Joan is far less annoying in this season than she was in the others. (By annoying I mean: she-needs-less-screen-time-cuz-she's-not-that-interesting.) I liked her little plot line with the television; that was funny, and I thought her shock about Cynthia being in the mental illness place was extremely well acted. And I liked that scene of the gifs above. :-P

My wooord, the Cynthia plot THE CYNTHIA PLOT. My heart is breaking for her. Her inner struggles are beautifully acted and I hope so badly she'll get better soon. Sometimes I think of the old Cynthia, when she was laughing with Trixie and Jenny and Chummy in her red midwife cardigan and my heart just breaks because I miss her like that. I want her to be better. MAKE HER BETTER, SCREENPLAY WRITER HEIDI THOMAS.

(Speaking of sisters, sister Julienne deserves a round of applause because she generally is wonderful and motherly and amazing. I love her.)


Suffice to say I'm happy she's gone and I hope she never returns again.

I have a confession to make: The Turners annoy me.

Listen, in Season two they were pretty much my favourite plotline - you know, Sister Bernadette un-nunning into Shelagh and then the widowed Patrick asking her to marry him... it was all so special and beautiful and I cried many happy tears over their story. But now it's like... BLEH. I REALLY DON'T CARE ANYMORE. (Wow, my caps sound fierce. But really; I am super sick of them.) They're always so sappy and cheesy and seriously, every Turner family scene goes a bit like this:

*Shelagh puts her hands on her belly*
Shelagh: I want this baby so badly, Patrick.
*Patrick does his head-cock-smile-thing*
Patrick: You have to rest, Shelagh.
Shelagh: I know, Dr Turner.
*they smile as if it's all a private joke*
*angelic-big-brother Timothy comes in with a quiet cute Angela*
*Patrick and Shelagh watch them and smile*
Timothy: We are a happy family, aren't we?
Patrick: We definitely are, son.
*Shelagh says something similar including a line about her new baby*

... Do you know what I mean?!!? It's so incredibly... plastic. (I'm afraid I think it's called bad acting.) The Turner scenes are so unrealistic and cheesy and just eww, they're becoming so cringe-worthy I'm starting to roll my eyes every single time they're on screen. How many times a day do couples talk about how happy their family is?! (Every . single . episode .)

I'll let other people be fans of the Turners. I'm spending my energy on Barbara and Tom.

OH TOM HOW I LOVE YOU. *insert heart-eye emoji* I'll publicly admit Tom is a bit of a heart-stealer. I love practically every scene with him in it. He's every inch the gentleman and I have very little complaints concerning the man. I loved the episode where he gets involved in the adoption plot of the lady and her cousin; and also, of course, every single scene ever between Tom and Barbara. GAHHH.


I don't know what it is with these two but THEY ARE SO ADORABLE. I cannot wait for their winter wedding (yes, I have seen all the pictures I have found and yes I have admired her wedding sparkle and yes I will enjoy the upcoming Christmas Special with great immenseness I am sure) because if it's half as beautiful as their proposal it's gonna be good.

Barbara is pretty much my favourite character in the entire show, by the way. She's so kind and purposeful and genuine. I love how she still messes up and has some clumsy scenes because it reminds me of how real she is. She's so elegant and she and Tom are the best pair can I get an amen?

What do I think of the new midwife, Miss Valerie Dyer? Yeah, she nice. Not my favourite - and her constant chirpy smile seems rather fake to me - but she proves to be a good midwife after the very dramatic and tense birth scene of the Muslim lady.

My favourite episode (so far) in season six is definitely episode five, where Fred (THE DEAR CHAP) (I repeat: THE DEAR CHAP) and his lovely wife, Violet take in Reggie after Reggie's mother dies of a sudden heart attack during a Church service. In the end they find a lovely home for Reggie, but goshhh this episode made me cry so much. Reggie is the sweetest lad ever.

The thalidomide episode made me cry so much too. THAT PLOT LINE IS SO MUCH. Susan's mother is the best actress ever and the scene where all the mothers affected by the thalidomide pill come together to talk about their kids was #cryingparty.

So yes. I'm enjoying this greatly. Basically.

Anyone else able to join me with Season six squealment? Do talk with me about it in the comments. What are your thoughts on the Turners? Are you offended by my perhaps-harsh words on them? Do you love Tom as much as I do? And would you like to be adopted by Fred and Violet Buckle?

Monday, 27 March 2017

A scene from my novel

The title speaks all. Read if you wish. Skip if you wish. Give feedback if you wish. Join in with Ingrid and Amy's discussion if you wish. Eat chocolate if you wish. Whatever. I don't care. :-P Here's a story snippet which I kinda am a little proud of.

Amy inspiration

Amy walked home through the cobbled roads after a long day of work. It was raining lightly, and the stones glistened in the silent glow of the few lanterns.
She’d seen her. She knew she had. She would recognise that gorgeous silhouette anywhere, with her dark long wispy eyelashes; and her beautiful curly hair. 
Amy dove into the side-street she had seen her vanish in; frantic for her younger sister.“Ingrid? Ingrid, come. Ingrid, please don’t go!” 
She looked back, a darling small smile on her face. “Amy, don’t worry about me,” she said. “Just go back home.” 
“But – Ingrid! You can’t just go! You’re part of the family. And – and you said you’d help. God knows I could need some right now.” 
Her face shone beautifully in the dusk; there were pools of starlight in her brown eyes. “Amy, I meant every word about helping you. And wait till you get back home – I just gave Edmund some money for food, and I gave the younger ones new shoes. Hand-me-downs from David’s nephews and nieces.” 
Amy pulled her sister down on the side of the road. She looked at her carefully. She seemed happy; she smelled like lemon and lavender – fresh and cheerful – and she looked like an angel. Her hair was done in the latest fashion, with waves in all the right places, and her hairpins were decorated with beads. She wore a new dress – blue; with lace and with machine-made buttons. 
She looked grand and old and glorious – it made Amy so jealous she almost wept. She wished she was Ingrid. Why did she have to fall in love with Lionel? Her heart ached for him; she loved him with her whole heart – but why did it have to be him? He was blind; penniless! He had warned her about her future. She had told him she didn’t care; but now suddenly she did. She wanted to be Ingrid; to be beautiful and rich and apparently powerful enough to save their family from poverty and destruction. 
“Oh Ingrid!” Amy cried. “Help me! Help us!” 
Ingrid put her arm around Amy, and rubbed her shoulder. She reminded Amy of her mother when she had been in a good, motherly mood – it made her cry even more. 
“I have good news,” Ingrid whispered in Amy’s ear. “But I can’t know for sure quite yet.” 
“Tell me everything,” Amy said. “And please – may it be a happy story.” 
Ingrid’s eyes shone with tears. “Oh Amy, it is. I’ve never been happier.” 
“You were fourteen when you met him first. What was your first impression?” 
“His looks,” Ingrid smiled. “He was tall and handsome; just like the heroes in story-books. Straight and short hair – cut in a dashing style. His eyes were black and twinkled outrageously. No wonder I fell for him as soon as I looked up into them. They still make my stomach twirl, in the same way that his presence makes me feel giddy and cheerful, like I’m in a ball filled with little lights and feathers. He’s so easy-going and kind and he always smiles – oh, my journey in getting to know him has been better than my wildest dreams.” 
“Oh, tosh,” Amy said. “I’ve never heard you speak like that before, Ingrid. You sound like a poetry book!” 
Ingrid flushed slightly. She looked down at her hands with a small smile around her lips. 
Amy followed her glance and suddenly saw that her sister was wearing a ring.“Oh Ingrid!” she gasped, grabbing her hand. “You’re married!” 
“Of course,” Ingrid calmly said. “I would never do anything indecent. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping these past days?” She blushed bright red. 
Then she looked at Amy and her voice turned back to how Amy was used to it. “Don’t look at me like that, Amy. One day you’ll know what that feels like, too.” 
She went all dreamy again, and started to talk like poetry book number two. “You’ll find yourself yearning to see his face again whenever you’re not with him; and you’ll find yourself looking into a future where everything seems perfect.” 
“That’s not how love works,” Amy scoffed. 
“Yes it is. Love is like an ironing board – it takes away all the creases and wrinkles.” 
Suddenly Amy was furious. She stood up and felt the blisters on her feet burn and the muscles in her legs ache; like they did so often. How could Ingrid say that?! Love wasn’t anything like an ironing board. The last thing it did was smooth out wrinkles – it just made more wrinkles; it just made matters even more complicated. 
“What’s the matter?” Ingrid asked. She stood up and neatened her beautiful blue dress. No creases and wrinkles at all. Amy’s dress was nothing but wrinkles – and hole – and soot – and sweat. 
“Just, the way you described love,” Amy said, angrily. “It’s not true.” 
“It IS true.” 
“Don’t be ridiculous. Love is an amazing thing, but it does not solve all problems. Quite the contrary, in most cases it just complicates matters.” 
“Well, if that’s the case, it’s not true love.” 
Amy thought about Lionel and thought her heart would almost burst with the love she held for him. 
“If you say that again Ingrid, I will -” 
Amy calmed herself. She shivered in the cold dusk air; hungry and tired to the bone. Ingrid could preach like that, couldn’t she? About true love making life all rosy and gold – while she wore new dresses and slept with a rich husband who could see the world with his own eyes and walk without a stupid stick. 
“I will give you an example, Ingrid,” Amy said. “And then I will go home, because it’s late, and tomorrow is an early morning. I can’t sleep in my little featherbed with a handsome husband till the clock strikes nine like you can.” 
“What are you so angry about all of a sudden?!” 
“I don’t know! Sorry! Just – don’t preach about love!” 
“Give me the example then.” 
Amy breathed deeply. She suddenly realised she was trembling, and that her heart was beating very fast due to lack of sleep and proper meals. 
“What if you fall in love with a blind war hero who cannot earn sufficient amount of money and who cannot earn the approval of your father? Either you don’t marry him; and the love story would come to an end, or either you love each other so much that you are willing to face all the problems – creases and wrinkles, as you put it – the future might hold.” 
“Yes, love makes it all work,” Ingrid insisted. 
“No, it doesn’t necessarily!” Amy sighed. “If I marry Lionel as well as playing mother number two for all my younger siblings, I will be facing more burdens than I am capable of facing. As much as I love them; sometimes one just is in hard situations.” 
“Lionel? Who is Lionel?” 
It was quiet for a while. Some people were arguing inside a house. A baby’s faded cry intermingled with their voices, and the wind played music around Amy’s ears. 
“Lionel is my fiancé. He’s Erica’s nephew. I met him when I stayed at her house. Erica is your stepmother.” 
“Yes, I know about Erica. But – but you never told me you had a beau!” 
“You can’t talk,” Amy scoffed. 
She didn’t know why she was acting so spiteful against her sister. She was just sick of life; and of problems – she wanted to sleep and wear pretty clothes and kiss Lionel’s face; and never lift a finger in labour again, but she knew she would never get that. It made her enormously jealous of her sister. So jealous, in fact, that she didn’t even want to hear the whole story she had to tell. 
But Ingrid sat her down and told her everything.

Ingrid inspiration
Kay me loves, off I go. You're welcome for the blog post. *curtsies*