Why Prince George is making me despise the royal family

Babies are annoying, they cry and scream and let out funny smelling gas, and Prince George is no exception.

He might be royal and he might be the future King of England, but if I see or write one more press release about Prince George’s first year on this deranged planet there is a very good chance that I will lose the will to live.

Now, I should probably make it clear that I do not hate kids in any stretch of the imagination, oh no. In fact at one time before I decided I wanted to train as a journalist I had the burning ambition to be a primary school teacher.

Albeit the ambition didn't last very long but nevertheless I did volunteer at my local Infant school once a week which I found somewhat enjoyable.

Of course there were times when I got so sick of being surrounded by children that I started to see smoke. For example when one of the little boys weed on another classmate’s hand, just to see whether it was warm. Head into hands moment.

And I should also make very clear that I am in no way against the royal family. In fact, I even have a waving statute of the Queen in my bedroom. Ask my boyfriend.

However, if there is one thing that is rapidly putting me off them it is Prince George.

Don’t get me wrong, last year I was fully submerged by the royal baby tidal wave, but I’ve since realised that as a nation we could probably do with a reality check.

I mean come on, we’re intelligent Britons but we’re all infatuated with an infant who doesn’t even know we exist… maybe we should all take a long hard look at ourselves and rethink our priorities. 

The Oxfam festival steward experience- Glastonbury 2014

Last weekend was my eleventh year of going to Glastonbury Festival. Yes, I was the weird kid at school that tripped off to sleep in a tent in a field for a few days when I was nine years old.

Me at my first Glastonbury in 2004

I’ve always been keen to support charities such as Oxfam as I think the work that they do is great, and so volunteering at a festival seemed like the perfect way to still go to a festival whilst doing something for a great cause. In fact, Oxfam stewarding raises £1 million every summer.

In 2012 my dad and I tripped off in the camper van to the Isle of Wight to steward our first festival with Oxfam- Bestival.

Stewarding at Bestival in 2012

Since then we’ve never looked back, and this weekend we stewarded our third festival with Oxfam.

We turned up on Tuesday morning to some rather admiring glances as our baby blue campervan was yet to be trashed with mud. Needless to say as the rain poured down later in the week the glances became somewhat green with envy as we cuddled down in our watertight van.

After we’d got our shifts we had a quick walk round the site which is one of the best perks of being an Oxfam steward. Glastonbury is one of the, if not the, biggest festivals in the world but being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people on an hourly basis can sometimes seem a little claustrophobic.

In front of the Pyramid Stage on Wednesday

Being able to freely walk around the site as the organisers are putting the finishing touches on everything is a priceless feeling.

On Wednesday morning we were up at 5am to get ready for our impending 5.45-14.00 shift. We were put on Pedestrian gate B which meant checking tickets and letting people in and out of the festival.

In our bright orange tabards we trudged past hoards of eager punters waiting at the gates ready for them to open at 8am. I had no idea so many people come a long so early… but I suppose that shows the changing face of the festival.

We were put on the turnstiles and were counting punters into the festival whilst issuing them with their programmes and official guide. There was a lot of waiting around, and the anticipation in the air hummed with both excitement and worry. I suddenly became very protective over the site… “I don’t want these drunken punters ruining it! “I thought.

8am came and we were called into position when the big green gates were opened and the first excited (and probably very tired) punters ran in.

Eight hours slowly passed, my thumb was getting tired from counting people in, and my patience running out after trying to understand countless scousers, but the shift was nearly over.

Pedestrian Gate B- opening the gates

We had all spectrums of society pass through our gate, from geordies in hair rollers to a clearly disabled man pushing his wheelchair full of booze (which had to be the funniest).

The best thing about Glastonbury is that there are so many people you never know who you’re going to bump in to, and letting our friend, Louise, and her husband through the gate was one of those moments. It cheered our shift up though, that’s for sure. 

When our shift was over we dawdled back to the campervan for a well-deserved kip, and went out to explore the now very crowed festival later on that evening.

Thursday evening- tents filling up

Luckily two of our shifts were early on in the festival, and Thursday evening was our overnight shift. Wednesday had set us up for an exciting and fast paced role, but the eight hours between 10pm and 6am the following morning felt like forever as we let around ten people in to the site. 

Cold moment during the night shift

Early in the morning was a little more exciting as people were rolling in from their heavy nights out all the way up until 6am in the morning. As you can imagine, trying to explain to someone who’s partly incoherent and covered in mud that they need to keep their tickets and pass outs safe otherwise they won’t be allowed back in to the festival was a task in itself.

Friday was a day off, which meant a) sleeping and then b) partying… or as much partying as you can do on limited sleep. 

After a lazy morning we headed down to see Rudimental on the Pyramid stage with an ever looming black cloud plus thunder and lightning in the background. Before the set was finished the band were rushed off stage due to a localized power cut.

We decided to head to the cider bus (solution to everything) when the heavens opened. In all my Glastonburys I have never ever seen raindrops as big. Plopping into my cider, which was becoming more and more watered down, we ran for cover but I was already soaking wet.

Drying out clothes in the dance village post rain

Mud 1- 0 Glastonbury.

It was also the day of our first celebrity encounter at Glastonbury 2014, and I have to say I was least than impressed.

 We were queuing to go up the ribbon tower in the park, which looks over the whole site. As you can imagine, there becomes quite a queue as only eight people are allowed up at a time, and my dad and I had planned it perfectly so we’d catch the sunset.

As soon as we got to the front of the line the apologetic steward told us they were shutting it momentarily as Metallica were having a photo shoot at the top. Needless to say we were annoyed, as we’d queued for easily half an hour

.

After exchanging some angered words with the man in charge we got fobbed off with a free (very nice) bar of chocolate, and got a dirty look of Lars Ulrich (the drummer from Metallica) who seemed to be looking down on us peasant fans.

We gave them a miss on the Pyramid stage the next day.

Saturday was our last shift, and we were working 2pm-10pm. We were unsure of what to expect as I was positioned in the Oxfield (the area in which Oxfam were camping) and Dad was on response, which means you get called to an area if they require more stewards.

Saturday afternoon

Luckily the response was coming to sit with the bored and lonely girl by the gate to keep her company. The bored and lonely girl was me.

That Saturday afternoon felt like forever, particularly when we were stood cowering under a tree dripping wet from the continual rain that never seemed to pass: I’ve never been so wet in all my life.

Those eight hours were the worst of the festival, but once we’d finished we were able to go out and see some acts and elements of the site that we’d never have done previously.

Block 9

Sunday was our last day, and as you can imagine I was dying for a shower AND not having to put wellie boots on just to go to the toilet (ah simple things).

We had a great day walking round the festival but by 10pm everything had got a bit too much, and with worry that we would struggle to get the campervan out of the mud logged field I left with a heavy heart, but safe in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be the last time I would get to visit Worthy Farm.

Big Brother is Watching You

I've never before been subject to what I can only describe as reality brain washing.

Thanks to my boyfriend forcing me to turn on Celebrity Big Brother in it's early stages,(ok I wasn't pinned down against my will but still, I don't like to admit to it) like a teenager taking her first drag on a cigarette I was hooked to the explosive and, yes, some what actually entertaining drivel that has made it's way into my religious nine pm ritual.

How I hear you ask? I often ask that to myself, but my poor, shrivelling as we speak, brain is addicted.

There is something strangely entertaining about watching 12 people who believe themselves to be "celebrities" take part in stupid tasks that must have been dreamt up by someone who has serious mental issues whilst we, the common public, have a good old laugh at how much of a complete nob head they are making themselves out to be. Yes, Lee Ryan I am talking about you.

In a way the sheer act of going on a programme that brands the contestants as celebrities is near enough an admission of either being a one-hit-wonder, a nobody or past it... and of course in dire need of the money, *cough* Linda Nolan*cough*

This year's Celebrity Big Brother has been branded as the most successful series to date, and has been extended due to its popularity... I take solace in the fact that I am not the only one who has been sucked into George Orwell's 1984 nightmare.

Perhaps big brother is watching me after all...

Grateful Christmas charity collecting...Not.

At this festive time of year we're all encouraged to think about others less fortunate than ourselves. It's in December more than ever that I feel almost on the verge of guilty when I walk past vendors selling big issue with bags full of shopping and say, "no thank you".

Now, we can't possibly give to every charity ever made, but which one do you give to and why? Is it whichever one is standing on the street to harass you until you give in and give them the sodding two quid to shut them up? Or do you give to the same one every year out of the kindness of your heart? I had an experience yesterday that I was much appalled at, and I wanted to share it with you all.

Now, before I start, I must state that I in no way am saying that charity is a bad thing. I'm all for charity. You only have to read my previous blog posts regarding my volunteering for Oxfam for two major festivals for the gory details. However, I was some what shocked at the series of events I am about to describe.

I was walking up to the local infant school where I was coincidentally undertaking my own charity work by helping accompany 360 four to seven year olds walk round Wollaton Park lake all in aid of When You Wish Upon a Star (told you I'm not a charity snuffer).

On my way up I'd popped into the shop across the road to buy a bite to eat before the walk and as soon as I walked in was stopped by a charity worker behind a table who started his cause with, "I'm not trying to sign you up to anything". I politely listened to the man drone on about paralympics and sport within the disabled sphere for a good five minutes. You can't say he didn't try hard, however asking me what sport I was interested in was a bad line... "none" I answered.

Anyway, after the spiel the man handed me a little badge that I could buy to support the charity, however doing the charity work of my own I had come with only two quid and a pair of gloves to my name, 50p of which I had spent on a co-op finest quality croissant. Oh how guilty I felt now for that.

"I'm sorry", I replied, "but I have come out without my purse as I'm walking for Wish Upon a Star."

"I have one pound fifty", I said, handing the change to the man.

The man turned to his colleague with a look that can only be described as total disgust.

"Well I don't like to sound ungrateful" he said as I waited for the but. It never came, but he swifty pulled out a leaflet showing me how much wheelchairs for playing basketball in cost.

Ten pounds this man wanted me to pay for that little badge.

Now, I don't mean to sound up myself but if you're a charity surely you should be grateful of any money you get. I didn't want the sodding badge, neither did I really have any interest in the charity (no offence). I was more interested in paying this annoying noise in my ear off so that I could get on and do the charity work I had already arranged to do.

I offered the £1.50 which was politely refused by the man after telling me they're here all week if I wanted to pop back in with my bank card. How much did he think I was willing to give!

I finally walked out the shop with a feeling of guilt and annoyance- and I'd only gone in to buy a croissant. Why should I be made to feel guilty? I was willing to give my last pound to that charity and he turned it down. I'll be donating that pound fifty to the school's when you wish sponsorship money instead.

Safe to say I'll be avoiding that shop like the plague for the next week.

When life gives you bananas...

My mum works in a school and so got given a load of spare bananas to use up over the weekend. No one I've ever met is keen on rotting fruit, and so this banana bread recipe is perfect for making sure it doesn't go to waste. It's also the most simple recipe in the world and creates minimal mess as it is all done in one bowl- perfect! I adapted this recipe a little bit from the standard banana bread by adding a bit of honey which sweetens the mixture a little and I find is a lovely accompaniment to the bake.

Recipe: Honey and Banana Bread

Ingredients:

• 100g butter
• 175g caster sugar
• 2 eggs
• 3 bananas 
• 225g self raising flour
• 2 tbsp milk
• 4 tbsp honey

Method:

1. Preheat your oven to 180 degrees and line a bread tin with grease proof paper.
2. Place all your ingredients in a bowl and mix together for a couple of minutes until everything is incorporated into a smooth mixture. 
3. Carefully pour the mixture into the tin and smooth the top. Bake in the oven for 1 hour until browned on top. 
4. Allow to cool in tin and serve either as a snack or with ice cream as a pudding.

I'd love to know how you got on. Let me know in the comments below or tweet me @efoakden 

Recipe: Christmas Chocolate Fudge

This festive inspired recipe is the perfect treat to give away as a quick and simple present that doesn’t cost the earth. Even better is that the most cooking required is using a microwave! Wrap your fudge pieces in cellophane and ribbon or homemade boxes to place under the tree. They are so delicious you will have everyone fooled as to how quick and simple they are to make. 

Ingredients:

• 250g dark chocolate
• 400g can condensed milk
• 120g mixed dried fruit and nuts
• Glace cherries to top

Method:

1.      In a large microwaveable bowl, melt the chocolate and condensed milk for around 4 minutes, making sure to check regularly

2.      Once melted, stir vigorously to combine and then add fruit and nuts

3.      Line a baking tray with greaseproof paper and pour the mixture into the tray

4.      Lightly draw lines on the mixture to show pieces and add a cherry on top of each

5.      Refrigerate to set and then cut along the lines to serve

I'd love to know how you got on with your own attempts. Let me know in the comments below or tweet me @efoakden

What's Banter Anyway?

If you had to describe exactly what 'banter' was to an alien you'd have somewhat of a challenging task on your hands. In the Oxford English Dictionary it is defined as the "friendly and playful exchange of teasing remarks" which, from my experience anyway, has hit the nail on the head.

Coming from a family who enjoy passing around regular taunts I've had to learn not just to be able to take the affectionate jeering, but be able to instantaneously swoop in with a suitably jocular comeback. However, this set me up well for the introduction to my boyfriend's family whom, from our first acquaintance have slowly but surely turned up the banter-o-meter to full.

For me, banter is a way of showing affection. The best banter, after all, is the sort that is tailored to the persons deepest darkest downfalls, and to do that you have to know the (dare I say) 'victim' extremely well.

However it seems other's don't agree. When I was researching previous comments on the use of banter around the web I stumbled across a Tom Chivers' post on the subject on the online blog for The Telegraph. <http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/tomchiversscience/100141906/if-you-like-banter-you-are-an-idiot/ >

It is not what I was expecting to see, the headline reading: "If you like 'banter', you are an idiot". In his post he then goes on to describe the use of the banter as "the single worst thing in the history of the universe"... well I wouldn't quite go that far Tom.

"Banter is Soccer Am" he goes on to say, "it is not humor, banter is what people have when they lack a sense of humor."

Well Mr Chivers I have a question for you.

My boyfriend's dad has very recently had an accident which has left him in a bit of a state with several broken bones currently recovering in hospital (I'll spare you the gory details.) I can almost hear your sympathy, well no... he doesn't want it. When visiting this weekend, and my boyfriend will back me up on this, he said: "I want the banter! It's what is gonna get me through until I get better."

So, is this just because he has a lack of appreciation for a good old fashioned gag, or does it depend on your personal preference when it comes to humor?

From my experience banter requires the intelligent use of wit and knowledge combined into a slick and ingenious statement with the intention of mocking someone... all in the name of a joke. And! furthermore, a joke from my experience, can be described as something that causes amusement and or laughter, thus surely underpinning banter as one of the most successful forms of humor guaranteed to make you titter... so long as you know yourself well enough.

Maybe it is that Tom Chivers doesn't quite have the capacity to laugh at his own mistakes which, ultimately, is what banter is. And if you can't laugh at your mistakes, I ask you what is the point in making them in the first place?

Banter is a form of affection that, however harsh it may seem to an outsider, to me will forever remain a certain way to show your closeness, warmth and love towards someone, be it your friends, partner or family. It's not offensive, because something offensive is meant with malice. It's harmless, and if you can't take it, well it's generally because you're not astute or quick enough to conceive a response.