The Fruits of Folkestone...

After watching Hangover 2 twice last week, it made me hungry for some cheesy tunes and a dirty dance floor. People in my home town will know, this only means one thing: 'La Prizienne'. Other nicknames include the Priz, the Grizler or the Grizly Den. This grimey club has had several attempts to change its poor reputation over the years, with a number of 're-designs' and name changes. Now, officially called 'Onyx', the club continues to disappoint the youth of folkestone. But regardless of the sticky floor and middle-aged regulars, the Priz is almost a guilty pleasure. Besides, Folkestone doesn't offer much else!

So I roped the girls into a night on the town. It didn't quite reach the Hangover's drunken antics of missing fingers or face tattoos, but it was a giggle nonetheless. We started at my friend Amy's with sangria, vodka and wine; clearly the 'no mixing' rule was quickly broken (rebellious i know). After many, many outfit changes, we all jumped in a cab to Folkestone's Spoons. A charming place, full of underage and overage drinkers. We found ourselves stuck in the middle; are we too old for this town, or too young? But after a round of sambuca shots, the 12 year-old dollies and 86 year-old pensioners were soon blurred in a drunken fog.

As the night went on, we bumped into a few of our old 'Brockhillian' classmates. Seeing faces that I hadn't seen since I was in secondary school, added to that 'should I be here' doubt. But at least they were our age! Once the small talk/cider slur had dried up, it was time to brace the Grizly.

It's safe to say it was messy. Anyone who has ventured to the Priz before knows you have to be heavily pissed to enjoy the night. Therefore in your blissful ignorance, the track-suited teens and mini-skirted mothers become just a part of the background. And all that's left is you, your mates and the dancefloor. However, this can be lethal, especially in the cheese room. Saturday played some classics, from 60's swing to Blink 182, arms were flung and I do believe the robot even came out at one point. Oh, and not forgetting a great deal of hip shaking! After all that Zumba, I just couldn't resist a drunken performance. I'm surprised I didn't actually break a hip. Although, if I had, at least I would fit in with the OAP regulars. Luckily, there is little picture evidence.

So with one of the girls stacking it on the dancefloor, I believe it was a very successful 'trip' out! Once we'd finally got back to Amy's gaff, amongst the peanut butter toasties and Dorito crisps, there was an unusual variety of fruit eaten. Bananas, oranges, apples, you name it we ate it. I guess that's not exactly rock and roll, but we live in Hythe, what do you expect? I promise next time, I'll endure a night of full Hangover antics..shave my head and get arrested? Although, I'm not really a fan of the Britney inspired look, so perhaps I'll leave the razor in the cupboard and venture out in the fruit department. Maybe even gorge on a grapefruit next time! I know, what an animal.

'Reddy' Steady, Royal Beddy ;)

I've always had a certain 'type' in my male fantasies; I tend to go for the caveman look. A cheeky cockney accent wouldn't go a miss either. So Biffy Clyro, times Indiana Jones, plus the voice of Jeff Brazier, equals...dream. However, there is just something about this one posh boy, that i cannot quite put my finger on (no pun intended). He is of course, Prince Harry. I don't tend to fall for a carrot-top man, but Harry's 'strawberry blonde' locks seem to be rocking my socks. Sorry, that didn't mean to sound like a Dr Seuss riddle.

If it's not Pippa Middleton's behind, it's Kate's chocolate curls; so i feel, it's only fair to have a bit of Royal man candy to excite our lower-class lives. With his rosy cheeks and mischievous nature, Buckingham's Duracell battery certainly has my vote.

Us girls don't exactly have much to choose from in the Royal rankings. Prince William seems to be donning a bald crown these days; and whilst I do have a thing for the more 'mature' gentleman, Prince Charles and the Duke of Edinburgh may be pushing it. So that leaves us with the youngest of the bunch, Prince Harry, the Royal joker.

It's almost approaching two months since Kate and Wills tied the knot, however, the world is still obsessed with the dramas of Buckingham Palace. Notably, Beatrice's spider-Esq head-wear, which was sold on eBay for over £81,000, whilst Kate's high-street wardrobe has resulted in many 'copy-kates' adopting her style, and of course, Pippa's much-photographed rear has launched a great demand for bum implants.

I must confess, I am a member of the 'Pippa Middleton's ass appreciation society' on Facebook, however, she was not the star attraction for moi on that glorious Friday. It's the ginger-nut Prince that caught my eye.  Known for his partying and drinking, Harry brings a little cheek to the Royal family. So when his duties are of a serious nature, the red-headed Prince appeared a little uncomfortable. Throughout the ceremony he looked like he'd rather be out clubbing with his posh-boy chums. Well, until he got to chat-up Kate's younger sis! Once they emerged onto the balcony, Harry gave his best efforts to charm Pippa, I'm guessing, with a series of hilarious knock-knock jokes. Royal banter.

So if the perfect booty is the key to a Prince's pants, then sign me up doctor! I can hear the wedding bells now.."Prince Harry, your Royal 'Hein-ie' awaits." Or perhaps I'll just stick to the bum squats, I am a commoner after all!

Reality Killed the Sitcom.

After recently watching 2011's MTV Movie Awards, there was one memorable line that fell out of Reese Witherspoon's Hollywood gob. Before taking home this years MTV Generation Award, the celebrated actress stated: "It's also possible to make it in Hollywood, without a reality show." However, although I'm partial to a bit of Legally Blonde and Water for Elephants was an incredible watch, I do have a soft spot for reality TV.

Undoubtedly, shows like TOWIE, The Hills, Geordie Shore and Made in Chelsea present the bizarre and somewhat disgusting lifestyles of today's 'stars', but it is an addiction. Crooner 'Arg' is my drug fix; who needs heroin to destroy lives, when you can watch the melt-down of others right from your sofa? Sure, it's wrong, but who can deny they didn't slightly enjoy the ever-changing face of Heidi Montag? After 6 series' of The Hills, viewers have been following her life from teens to twenties. Starting as a sweet girl from Colorado, minus the plastic, resulting in a typical LA barbie. The reality star was reported to have a mammoth 10 surgery procedures in one day, including bum implants, boob enlargements, back reshaping and far more ridiculous treatments. Married to a lunatic husband, we saw the gradual break-down of Heidi's relationships and mental state. It almost felt like we shouldn't be watching, but that's Hollywood.

So it seems after Laguna Beach hit our screens in 2004, the worlds gone bonkers for the bizarre. Mixed with true life and plotted story lines, contemporary audiences have become fixated with the lives of LA's rich and famous. But after 7 years of these American productions, it was time for us Brits to entertain. With satsuma skins and sparkly vaginas, 2010 welcomed The Only Way is Essex. The cheeky chappies of Chigwell, along with their fake-breasted girlfriends, was the perfect potion to guarantee an outrageous watch. TOWIE received mixed reviews, however love it or hate it, the show was a success in TV ratings. Earlier this year, the Marmite show even took home a BAFTA, much to their surprise!

The climbing fortune of reality TV has had a domino effect in the realm of British television, notably the 'upmarket' version, Made in Chelsea, has followed in its footsteps. Meanwhile, Geordie Shore has bombarded our screens with threesomes, hot tubs and St Tropez covered bedsheets.

So, if video killed the radio star, then it seems reality killed the sitcom. Time for my next fix? I think so ;) 

Bitesize Delights!

For a few years now, my mum has been having an affair, no not with a man, but with baking. This came as quite a surprise for the woman who's cheffing philosophy is, the quicker, the better. With a full-time nursing job and other wifely duties, making dinner for six isn't exactly a pleasure, but just another chore. So when I discovered her new found adoration for making sweet treats, it was a shock to say the least. From buttery-iced cupcakes, to a fruitful pavlova, her skills in the kitchen have developed somewhat. Hythe's Nigella Lawson? Well perhaps I wouldn't go that far; she cooks for her own delight, not to 'obey' her husbands culinary wishes! However, he is a fan of her sugary creations of course.

In last years fall edition of Vogue, there was a very intriguing article that immediately caught my eye: 'The Age of the Cupcake.' My mum, the full-time nurse/cupcake entrepreneur, has now gone on to sell her bakery goods at weddings, country fairs and other celebratory events. So, when I stumbled across this feature, I snapped a pic of the heading and sent it to her. Once I had read the piece, acknowledging that my 43 year-old ma was more 'en-vogue' than me, left a proud but ever so slightly envious aftertaste.

The culture of the cupcake is a very British hobby. This alluring, candy-coated treat posseses the perfect handful of naughtiness and charm. Branded the glamorous desert choice, the cupcake oozes a chic and stylish approach to pudding. Ideal for social gatherings, this bitesize delight creates a warm and homely addition to a party. But it's the accessorizing and decorative element in which my mum revels in. Her prize ornament is the lavish, 3-tiered cupcake stand, one that she proudly presents on each event. However, further fun can be had with this enchanting little delicacy! My mum is also fond of garnishing each batch, she uses gold sprinkles or edible jewels. It simply gives this delectable indulgence a fun, unique finish; the 'ooo' factor!

So, I was extremely excited when I discovered that British Baker magazine had offered me a work placement later this year. I accepted immediately, with my mum's love for baking and my love for eating, I'll fit in like an oven glove! (Shameful pun, apologies). On the 10th of October, I will experience the written world of deserts, working in the most notorious baking magazine in the UK. Needless to say, this time it wasn't me to be jealous, but my mum. 

As its only a number of months until I start at British Baker, I believe that combining my writing skills with sugary treats, must undergo some practise. So, now's the time for Mumma Pledge to dust off her apron and perfect that cupcake! Just for journalistic reasons, of course... ;)

'Just Around the Riverbend'...Tales of a Boho Bridesmaid.

2011's catwalk is pushing that infamous 70's trend all the way down the runway and into our highstreet favourites. Imitating the Farrah Fawcett flicks and flares, it seems everyone from Marc Jacobs to Topshop are fans this season. Although, this retro-glam trend has had its setbacks, notably, Cheryl Cole's tragic purple trousers. But regardless of this disastrous outfit, I'm still massively fond of the hippy-Esq fashion.

The laid back, bohemian style has always been at the heart of all my fashion decisions. I'm smitten with the effortless appearance of messy hair, tie-died tees and ripped shorts, although I cannot dress like this in my hometown, without the disapproval of Hythe's coffin dodgers. But an opportunity has risen for me to forest into the delicious realm of bohemian dress! After 16 years of living together, having two children and four cats, my dad and his partner have decided to tie the knot. However, they are not the typical candidates for marriage and will be holding the reception in our back garden. With a BBQ to serve the hundreds and a local SKA band to soundtrack the celebrations. My dad will be strutting down the isle of an old manor house, in a brown suit and pork-pie hat, whilst my future step-mum will float down the isle in a Grecian gown.

This leaves me and my younger sister as bridesmaids. Usually, this thought would haunt me with visions of ugly kitten heels and hideous pink meringues (ironically, I don't even like pavlova or baked Alaska, so looking like a sugary pudding doesn't exactly excite). But this wedding is far from traditional, as we will be heading to the venue in one of my dad's classic VW campers! So, this is the idyllic time to explore my bohemian wishes without looking like a misfit in society.

I have been browsing the Internet for inspiration and so far I have not yet found my gypsy-Esq gown. But I will not surrender until I have found a floaty, floor-length, ivory coloured dress; perhaps with a subtle floral print or bow detail. Yes, I admit, it may be a challenge, but with just under two months until the big day, I have just enough time to bag the look of a boho bridesmaid! And if not, I'm sure I can make some sort of headband with the mountain of daisies surrounding my garden. So, 'Just around the Riverbend', a bridal Pocahontas? August 6th, watch this space...

My Hips Don't Lie...

June is here, which means those dark grey days are behind us, supposedly. The thought of summer fills us Brits with the image of sunshine glossed picnics and chips on the beach. But for many of us the season is not all about tan lines and BBQs, as its that time of year to squeeze our 'bikini bods' back into last years two piece. Most assume no carbs and monotonous gyming is the only way to trim down, but a new fitness craze has changed the face of exercise. Of course, I'm talking about Zumba.

After the many years of aerobics, spinning, yoga, pilates and boxercise, these customary workouts have become tired and predictable. So with Zumbas Latino steps and hip spirals, this fitness class promises a fun and foolish way to loose the pounds and tone up. I've always wanted to join a salsa group, as I relish the freedom and sensuality involved in the dance. Plus, nothing quite feels more liberating than shaking your hips to a great tune! However, most of my friends believe salsa is for pensioners and women on the other side of menopause. So, this would mean joining on my own and undergoing an hour of seductive dance with an unknown male. Hi, I'm Maisie, Shall we Dance? It's not quite Richard Gear or JLo, so I think I'll save myself the embarrassment.

Now we can welcome the saviour of salsa, Zumba! A carefree and enjoyable activity that can thankfully be attended solo. So the idea of having a strange man's pelvis skimming against your 'frufru', is needn't a concern (que, sigh of relief). The European based dance, focuses on the tribal movements of various cultures, including Greece, India and Spain, to name a few. With a delectable mix of composed steps and freestyle moments, the class is suitable for everyone.

After enduring endless hours at the gym and joining yoga for a quick second, there's finaly a workout that appeals. The glorious mentality of Zumba is that if you can't follow the steps, shimmer those hips and skip along with the beat. You'll be sure to finish the hour with high spirits and a sweaty brow! I have been 'Zumbaring' since the dawn of the new year and it continues to excite me, I can't praise it enough.

In the wise words of Shakira, My Hips Don't Lie...

The Daily Echo...Coffee Mugs and Inspiration

The promise of a two week heatwave has once again damaged our British spirits. Those insistent grey clouds, instead, have decided to spit out a weekend of drizzle. So as I'm trapped inside on a very gloomy Monday, at least I can spend some time with Tea&Scones. After the mound of deadlines are officially over, I now have a few weeks of mindless activities to indulge in, before I begin my summer job (yawn).

Living in Hythe, a small town in the Kentish countryside, poses very few things to do for a student in her 20's. Days spent snaking through the high-street, in and out of charity shops, can become a little mundane, even for me. So with Hythe's lack of sunshine and friends stuck behind their college desks, I can rekindle my love for blogging.

Once the essays and dissertation proposals had been thrusted into the hatch, it was time for the students of Southampton to celebrate with late nights and lay ins. Us girls at 59 Wilton Avenue were no exception, we spent three weeks watching disney films, going for lunch and partying until it was light outside. Living the lives we can't afford! But as June arrived, my housemates ventured home and I was left to man the house on my todd for one more week. However, this was not another 7-day booze up, instead, I was there to begin my placement at the Daily Echo.

Feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed by the sudden disquiet, I was not looking forward to working 9-5 and coming home to an empty shithole. Although, I admit, the applecore covered floor and sticky kitchen surface, was a mess that I had formed hans solo. But to my suprise, the Daily Echo was far better than I could have imagined. Unlike working at LOOK magazine, this humble newspaper provided me with real responsibilites. Throughout the week, I got to write and publish current news features, investigate a sexual assualt case, visit a magistrates court, be videod for the daily headlines and was even sent out to find news and interview residents.

I've had an adoration for journalism since I was writing stories at the age of 6, but the Daily Echo has now cemented my determination to become a writer; be it newspapers or books. To top the week off, I was presented with a Daily Echo mug and even invited back for a second placement.

So a future in regional news? We'll see. But if all else fails, i've always got Tea&Scones and my souvenier coffee cup! Daily Echo, we will meet again.