Rebecca has written 15 articles for Nouse
I reckon that I’m probably in the minority when I say that I’ve found finishing my degree to be a…
I notice that the World Cup is going on. I could hardly miss it, of course, as the BBC and…
It’s been reported that French Connection has had a collapse in sales recently, blamed in part on their recent advertising campaign, which attracted a large number of complaints. I don’t know if you saw it, but I certainly found it quite off-putting: it showed two women beating each other before enjoying a kiss, while covered in oil
When people used to talk to me about finals, I assumed they’d be like my A Levels: I’d be permanently exhausted, wandering from one exam to the next, and all I’d ever do was work.
I also thought that I’d get rather stressed – or, at the very least, panicked – and end up having arguments with everyone I knew. Thus far, that hasn’t happened. Mainly because I do English, so I’ve had a single exam (which I did worry about no end, but I can’t summon the energy to be concerned about it now it’s over); but also because the mood that appears to be characterising this final term at York is boredom
I went home for a few days at Easter to give myself some respite from essays and the like. (Not that I particularly needed any time off; my will to work ran out at some point in the second week of the holiday, around the time that I realised I had no idea what I was even meant to be writing an essay about. Still, hopefully it’ll never be marked because of the AUT strike, and I can claim that it was, in fact, my masterpiece, and I was robbed of a first class mark.)
A couple of days before writing this, Katie Holmes gave birth to a baby girl, named Suri (apparently it’s Hebrew for ‘princess’, or something similarly pretentious).
I must say, I don’t think Suri Cruise is a brilliant name; it doesn’t really sound right, rather like Moses Martin, the other celebrity baby of the moment. Anyway, there’s been an immense fuss in the media about Ms Holmes’s labour: there were a load of rumours that, due to Scientology’s practice of silent birth, Tom Cruise had bought his fiancée a dummy, in order that the baby wouldn’t hear any screaming as she entered the world
Ah, the Six Nations rugby championship. Who to support? Well, if you think along the same boring lines as my brother, then I ought to be backing England. He rang me the other day, distraught, after they had lost. “But… you support Scotland, don’t you?” I said, confused. This was apparently the wrong response, but I thought it was fair enough: we’ve lived there for the past nine years, and recently, he’s started to affect a Scottish accent. But in rugby, it would seem, Matthew is firmly on the side of the English
Traditionally, award ceremonies are terribly boring affairs, consisting as they do of the losers simpering (with varying degrees of graciousness) that it’s an honour just to be nominated, and the winners rambling on about the honour of being chosen from such a great selection of nominees
February is such a depressing time of year. Or at least that’s what the world would have me believe: you’d think, from the papers at the moment, that we should all be near-suicidal with despair
Penguin has recently reissued a load of literary classics – Lolita, Great Expectations, that kind of thing – along with a few, more recent books in a new ‘Red Classics’ line, complete with colourful, glossy covers. When I found a display of them in Borders, I was pathetically thrilled and duly bought three for the price of two. In fact, so enamoured was I of this new packaging that I later went on to the Penguin website to see what other titles there were in this range
It’s a terribly stressful experience being in the third year, especially if you’re an English student. Almost everyone I know has exams, or a dissertation (or, in some unlucky cases, both); while I don’t actually have either. Well, I have a solitary exam at the beginning of next term (which I prefer not to think about), but otherwise, it’s all about the assessed essays
In terms of my aspirations to become the most boring person I know, 2006 had an auspicious start. While my brother celebrated in Edinburgh and my parents were out getting drunk with the neighbours, I sat at home and dithered at length over the programme with which I should usher in the new year