The Most Wonderful Time of the Year…

It’s that time of year again.

I mean the time when, by the time you’ve left school, the sky is slowly dimming and by the time you’ve reached your road, you have to walk quickly up it; your hand in your coat pocket and the sharp-edge, point of your key clenched firmly between your index and middle finger.

The time when every single footstep behind you in the almost-dark is a potential stalker slash murderer and the backstreet shortcut which is a faster walk seems to have somehow become more menacing.

The time when the cold numbs your hands when you are talking to your friend on the phone, holding it to your ear (sans gloves), simply so that they will know if anything happens to you. Or even when nobody is at the other end of the line.

The time when Tchaikovsky blocking out the world no longer seems like a good idea because then you won’t be able to hear the potential telling sounds around you. And Mozart is playing very silently in one, solitary earbud. Just one. Very quiety.

Oh the joys of winter.



An Unexpected Return: The ‘I’m Kidding Mum’ Edition

Once again. I am always disappearing for long periods of time, and – honestly – so much has happened since I last blogged on the 1 August 2016. Unfortunately, I have no elaborate, eloquent essays like my last post, so this is simply pure, unadulterated rambling. No structure, no hidden messages, no propaganda.

Just my nonsense.

So what have you missed? First of all… well, not first of all, but one of the most important things: I turned 17. (Wahey!) This is a milestone in UK terms because (also most importantly) I can start to learn how to drive. I am also one year closer to getting married without my parent’s permission; this, naturally, is obviously the number one goal.

I’m kidding mum, that is obviously NOT the number one goal. 🙂

Secondly, I’ve made new friends. I say new friends, I mean friends who have literally fallen into my lap due to entirely unforeseen circumstances. As I, often do, never directly use their names, Cameron – as she is called for an entirely justifiable reason – is a new friend I have discovered, to be politically correct,  who shares my love (pun intended) for words, writing, racial politics and humour. I’m low-key glad I’m talking to her now, too. There has been the development of my friendship with Spaceboi who is, in fact, a boy from space, because he is out of this world. Literally. He also still owes me Welsh soil. (Even though he’s dying and he can’t swallow. #GetBetterSoon) And as a new edition to my shiny card collection of friends, Bag Juice, so named for his favourite beverage in Jamaica (yes, I also went to Jamaica for the summer) is – I have discovered – my ‘long-lost cousin’, whose laugh makes me laugh.

As a matter of fact, he’s on the phone to me as I write this. Bag Juice, as in. As he has just brazenly told me, after a small dispute over GCSEs, “I know bare.” What a legend. Truly inspirational words from an inspirational young man.

(I was going to start the next paragraph with the word ‘also’ but because he’s now at A-Level and thinks he’s a bit cool, Bag Juice suggested that I start with the word ‘conjointly’. I’ve never even heard of it before in my life. He now tells me I should look it up in a dictionary or a thesaurus, because of course, “he knows bare.”)

Conjointly, I have continued my current studies in A-Levels, continuing on with the ever-stressful English Literature, Spanish (now so rapid that I’m surprised I’m not told to bring a life-jacket to every lesson) and History, which is the only thing that is keeping me going right now anyway. But I don’t have a choice, and so I am aiming for that #AcademicExcellence because I intend to make the best of this year. Especially since last year didn’t exactly go to plan. And, naturally, I do not want a repeat of the academic DISASTER (to put it lightly) that was the school term of 2015.

I’m kidding mum, it wasn’t a COMPLETE disaster. 🙂

[Update: Bag Juice has now gone. It’s just me now; thank goodness he’s left me to blog in PEACE!]

Praise the Lord, though, that I got an A and C in my AS Levels. The A was (entire unsurprisingly) in Drama and the C was in Spanish, and even though, sadly, I have been forced to drop Drama – and will subsequently miss my husband Torvald, and my Polish twin sister Caroline, and Turkey, and just everyone in the class – God helped me to pass my Spanish. No, but honestly, it had to be Him, because there is not a chance in Hell (ha! see what I did there?) that I was able to understand a single word on that test paper.

It was all Greek to me. (I’m kidding mum, I obviously revised for it. 🙂 )

Also, on the theme of #AcademicExcellence, I’ve recently deleted my Instagram and Snapchat – and I couldn’t have chosen a better time, really – so that I can focus on my work and my spiritual life as I realised they’re literally two of the biggest distractions for me. I’ve only been accessing them illicitly when it is 100% necessary. (I’m kidding mum, I don’t illegally sneak onto them on my laptop. 🙂 )

Since the tearful and heart-wrenching ending of Downton Abbey, and the anxious wait for the next season of Velvet to be released on Netflix, I have found a new program to alleviate my desperate and insatiable longing for period dramas; Victoria, on ITV. We only have a slight problem – well, I say it’s a slight problem, when in reality it’s a large problem that brings about very worrying developments and has even worse implications; Victoria and Albert, the cutest televised historical couple that I have seen to date, are related.

“But that’s not so bad!”, I hear you cry. “All the British Royal family are inbred!” (You wouldn’t be wrong if you did say this; our current Queen Elizabeth and her husband are second cousins once removed). But wait! Victoria and Albert – the cutest televised historical couple that I have seen to date – are not only related; they are *drum roll* FIRST COUSINS! (Gasp! Shock! Horror!)

What shocks me the most though, is not that they are related or that they had 9 kids (and that’s at LEAST 9 sex – 9 too MUCH sex for first cousins, in my humble opinion), but the fact that despite knowing this shocking fact, I am still high-key gunning for their sweetly romantic relationship.

In other words, I am high-key gunning for incest. (Please feel free to quote me; you will never hear these words come out of my mouth at any other point in my life). What’s wrong with me? I mean, I know I’m a nerd for history, but I’m NOT a nerd for incest and there is never any excusable justification for this practice, right?

I’m kidding mum, I don’t support incest. 🙂

Anyhow. We’ve lost a key member of our History band, which was named ‘Volksgemeinschaft’; now Babs has left and our topic has changed in History (Civil Rights in America from 1865 – 1992) we’ve had to rename ourselves ‘The White Citizens’ Council’. Which is just historical banter, but PLEASE don’t assume that we’re only made up of racist white people, because I am neither racist nor white. I don’t know about the others though… I know for a fact that Mags has admitted to being a white supremacist on the weekends, and she does own an uncanny amount of white bedsheets?

I’m kidding mum, none of my friends are white supremacists. 🙂

Speaking of white supremacy, I also want to say, a HUGE congratulations (and shout out) to the KKK, who would have been in existence – by December 24th of this year – for 151 years! Yes, you’ve read that entirely correctly! The fun-loving, all-hating, Christian band of ‘lovable rogues’ (as I, so gingerly, put it) have been up and running for 151 years! Since December 1865, who would have thought that they would have STILL (yes, that’s right, STILL, because they have an official website and everything!) been alive and well in September of 2016?

Certainly not me. That’s who. (Especially to all those who think we live in a ‘post-racial’ society, they are a group who were literally born out of racist ideologies and stand for white supremacy and are still today being supported by American citizens.)

But let’s not dwell on the positives, eh?

My writing attempts since 1 August have been somewhat faulty; did that sentence even make sense? Probably not. Goes to show, right? But when I was in Jamaica, I kept a diary of the goings-on (for about a week or two) which I tried to start off emotionally-neutrally, but ended up failing and just revealing the depths of my soul to. The worrying thing is, even though I know it’s at home, I can’t remember where I put that notebook. (I’m kidding mum, not the depths of my soul.) But I don’t doubt I will shortly find it and be able to burn whatever necessary incriminating pages.

I’m kidding mum, I’m not going to burn any of it, it’s all evidence to be used against me in the future. 🙂

And on that note, I think it’s time for me to once again depart and leave the heart of my blog empty and waiting for me to return at sporadic intervals, whenever I gather the ability to write.

Farewell, until next time,

The Faerie Squad Mother x


p.s. I’m kidding mum.

How Ironic

I think it’s really funny how some people seem really surprised that I’ve suddenly begun to talk more about racial issues and such, not just on my blog but also in real life.

I’d just like to let everyone into a little secret: I’ve always been talking about this stuff.

It’s just that when I used to talk about it, I tried to keep my voice as quiet as possible so that nobody complains that they’re offended or that I’m a ‘racist intolerant’ or whatever else. But now, I’ve made a conscious choice to make my voice heard.

I also find it really funny how before, when I was content to quietly mumble about social injustices with my friends, there was never a reaction, but the instant that I find and use my VOICE and on my personal BLOG of all places (what am I thinking? How RUDE of me; my PERSONAL blog?!) people suddenly make a fuss about my opinions.

I bet if I was to post a blog complaining about the Instagram update and saying how unacceptable it was, people would comment things like, “This is so true! THERE IS SO MUCH INJUSTICE IN THE WORLD!!!!!” or “I’m so glad SOMEONE said something! I thought I was the only one!” or even “I actually think it’s alright.” Even if I was to post entirely in (probably very poor) Spanish, I guarantee people would still comment, “I couldn’t understand anything but this is so true!” Even my post about my somewhat controversial religious beliefs didn’t elicit the level of hate and disagreement that my racial post from Sunday did – both online and IRL. But when I post about racial issues people tell me, “You make this all up” and “You’re not even oppressed. Go live in a third world country and see what oppression REALLY is” and “Stop complaining! You’re not helping your own situation by fulfilling stereotypes!” (Which, may I just ask, stereotypes do I fulfil?)

Plus, oppression is relative. Just because I don’t live in a third-world country or somewhere where many women are openly treated as subordinates, doesn’t mean I am not still at a disadvantage in my own country. I’ve mentioned before, I’m a black female. I live in a Western Society, where the institutions cater for White Heterosexual Rich/Middle-Class Cishet Males before anybody else. This means that within my own native system, I am at a disadvantage. And I think people think of oppression and imagine slavery being reintroduced into society; but it’s a lot more than that. Oppression is about how prejudice and discrimination has become institutionalised and normalised to the point where a specific set of people are benefitting – and it just so happens that I am not a person who is actively benefitting from the system.

I mentioned in my #BodyPostivity and Letter to my 8-year old self post that I’m learning to love myself and that nobody can make me feel inferior without my permission. Which is very true. In the past couple of days, because of the reactions to real life and on-line situations, I’ve begun to doubt the validity of my voice and my opinions. But then I get slapped back into reality and realise, “Why am I letting bitter, ignorant people limit my voice?”

And I realise that, as much as I don’t like confrontation, some things have to be said. It has taken me SO long to climb out of the box that I was put in from Primary School, and I’m still on my self-love journey. I literally cannot believe that I would even consider taking any anonymous person;s comments to heart. I literally cannot believe that anyone would take time out of their day to read through a post, become offended by the literal truth and then decide to share their negativity  – to be honest, I love hearing from my fans. Especially the bitter ones. (Plus, I’m flattered you think me so significant!)

Anyway, let’s not dwell on negativity.

I had an exam yesterday, a written one for Drama. Which went really well. We had to sit two papers; a live theatre and a studied play script. For my playscript, we studied Henrik Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. If you HAVE read it or had to perform it then I feel sorry for you if you had to be Nora. If you haven’t, maybe do in your free time. It’s an interesting play definitely, but you have to take into consideration a lot of contextual factors. Interestingly, it touches upon issues of female subordination, to an extent, because – long story short – the play centres around a married couple, Nora and Torvald Helmer. They live in 19th century Norway, and Nora is literally treated like a child by her husband – a doll, in a sense of speaking, hence the title. It’s actually SO weird, he calls her all sorts of weird, dodgy pet names, and she loves it, but she’s quite manipulative.

To be honest, their marriage is just a disaster waiting to happen.

But in the end (SPOILER aha) she leaves him after a LOT of unnecessary and avoidable drama because she realises that she has become such a trophy wife and a pet to him that she doesn’t even know who she is herself. She says she wants to discover herself or whatever, so she leaves him with the children.

Great story.

But anyway. I have an exam next Tuesday for Spanish Listening, Reading and Writing which should be VERY interesting, seeing as I’m a lot worse at Spanish than I initially realised. I’m sitting in my study periods, and I’ve just spent about an hour practicing Spanish words and phrases and grammar etc. (Memrise is actually fantastic. It is keeping me going this year in Spanish, I swear!)

Because of the fact that my AS subjects have technically ended, I now have two mornings and two afternoons off from school, which is literally fantastic because it means I can go home earlier and I’M SO READY FOR SUMMER NOW.


Because they’ve changed the system and as of next year, AS-Levels will technically no longer be a thing, they’re introduced these new exams which are like UCAS Prediction exams, so that when we apply for University (next September, I think, we start) then you have the Predicted Grades from the ‘official’ University system, I suppose.

Which sucks because it means more unnecessary and stressful exams. But whatever.

I need to do some more Spanish.


Love the Faerie Squad Mother x


Eye of The Storm

This week I have been at Pathfinders Camp. Pathfinders is the Christian equivalent of, I suppose, Guides or Scouts for example. (Am not sure what the American equivalent would be… Someone help me out?) I would explain Pathfinders as ‘Christian Camp’, but it’s not really just ‘Christian Camp’, because I don’t think that term effectively encapsulates exactly just what it entails. Yes, admittedly, Seventh-Day Adventism (which is what I am, an SDA) is a denomination of Christianity, but there is a lot more to it than that.

At any rate, I was pretty excited when we left on Monday (after my entirely hectic, chaotic birthday party… Shoutout to all those who dressed up authentically!) and was really looking forward to meeting new people.

Skip forward to today. I am tired, my entire body aches, and I AM SO ASHAMED TO SAY IT, but I have only had 2 showers in the entirety of 5 days (and one doesn’t even count because I only had it when I came home to get my GCSE results… Brrrap brrrap for that by the way, Queen RiRi actually did well by God’s grace!) I was upset because of people’s bad attitudes and stink personalities, certain people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut and others don’t know when to open them.

The tents were alright, but the second or third night it rained and some stupid boys thought it would be funny to run their hands along the insides of one of our tents. If you are a camper, or have been camping, then you will know that one of the golden rules is ‘Do not touch the inside of the tent’, especially when it’s raining, because it limits the tent’s waterproofing abilities, and the tent floods.

Which is exactly what happened. The tent flooded.

Other than perhaps the socialising aspect, learning self-defence, the song services and the Christian side of it, It has been absolute hell and I really don’t want to bring it all back, because, to be fair, it might have been a slightly poopy week, but what has happened in the past is in the past. Where it belongs.

I am not blogging today with the intent to make a statement or have a rant or anything (if I rant, it would just get super personal and I don’t need that) so I am just posting this short snippet before I have my shower (that makes 3!) to let you all know that I am alive and well, and also inform you as to why I have been off the grid for the past week.

Anyways, love you all, I may or may not post later, and I apologise for the negativity… but on a brighter note, it’s my birthday in 4 days. Woohoo!

Queen Rianna


Hello! From Australia!

That’s a joke. I’m not in Australia. But I have barely been in London (or at home, at least) for the past week, hence the reason for my lack of posting. For which I apologise. At least, if you would LIKE an apology, then this is it. I am sorry. 🙂

Before I briefly highlight what I’ve been up to this week, I’d just like to point out that I don’t have a clue why I was awake so early. My friend T stayed over last night and we didn’t fall asleep til about half 12. I woke up around 7:30 and she was sitting there staring at me, like the fantastic weirdo that she is. (LOL, but I love her anyway)

We also went to the park yesterday after church, and we took some BOMB photos. Like, they were SERIOUSLY bomb. Seriously. Like, THE bomb. Awesome. Fantastic. Buff. Spicy. (I am very tempted to throw in ‘Cheeky’ for all of you who are aware of the ‘Cheeky Nandos’ meme)… And any other adjective you can think of which conveys the overall theme of those past words.

Anyways. I think I’m getting carried away.

I went on some University Experience thing this week at Royal Holloway (not the women’s prison – the University in Egham) so I met lots of lovely – and absolutely mental – people. I got to speak to loads of actual students and ask questions, and I learnt a lot more than I have learnt from teachers telling us at school, so it was definitely a well-spent three days.

The sessions were super engaging. (Some of them… NOT archaeology). We had taster sessions of some subjects – ones we chose before we came – and we got put into hour-long interactive sessions. The first one I went to was Law, which was, suffice to say, VERY interesting. It started off as a friendly group discussing the case. It ended with three girls (one of whom was me) shouting at each other across the table about whether or not this person was guilty. (He was guilty, we later learnt; which I was adamantly declaring, despite evident disagreement…) Regardless, it was nice to actually see what these sort of subjects would be like, and experiencing it in a practical manner.

We also sat through a psychology lecture, and it was so interesting that the lecturer only managed to get through half of his presentation, because everyone just kept asking him questions. It was about the Psychology of Delusions, and it was very enlightening.

The food. Was. Disgusting. It’s like people don’t know how to use salt. Or seasonings.There was not any level of culinary art being employed. Not even like, Lvl.3 – Scrambled Eggs/Fried Eggs w/ seasoning… It would have been a miracle if we had even had seasoning in the food. There wasn’t even salt! I had to sprinkle salt on everything I ate! The food was like Lvl. 1 – Butter on Toast.

The past week has been pretty hectic, at any rate, so I’m not just going to give a review on what staying at the Royal Holloway was like. (It was an amazing experience though!)

Today we went to Regent’s Street with my Aunt and I got my face painted! (Whoo!) It’s a tiny little crown on my right cheekbone, with three gems at the point of the crown. I don’t know how else to describe it in a way which fully communicates its awesomeness. I was standing in the queue while my sister was getting hers (a butterfly – how cliche, right? But classic… so a solid choice overall. Well done sister 🙂 ) done, and as I was standing there, I felt this tiny little tap on my leg. So I look down, and there is this little Asian girl and she says to me in the sweetest voice, “Are you waiting in the queue?”

Suddenly, this intense feeling of guilt strikes me, like, ‘Rianna, uhm… You’re 15. Why are you gonna be stopping a little girl from getting her face painted?’ So I smiled at her and responded, “Yes, but you can go in front of me if you like.” At which point, she looked up at me terrified and shook her head. I said, “Are you sure? It’s OK if you want to go before me.” So she looked at her dad, and I smiled at him and said, “Seriously, it’s fine. She can go before me.” But he shook his head and gave his gratitude. They stood behind me for a while, but the girl’s sister was asleep in the pram, so I think they decided it would be best if they left. And then they left.

At which point I felt even worse, because I was worried that I had just scared away a lovely little girl.

All she wanted to do was get her face painted.

Anyway. I also painted a ceramic plant pot in red and white stripes, though my white stripes looked more tinged with blue, because this silly little boy couldn’t grasp the concept of NOT mixing brushes in with other colours; he mangled every single colour and also managed to splash blue paint all over my hands. What made it even worse was the fact that he was probably about 7 years old, maybe even 8. He KNEW he was being irritating. The lady told him to stop mixing the colours THREE times. THREE. That’s a big number for someone who can’t listen to instructions.

Nonetheless, it’s kind of getting late now, and I haven’t wiped my makeup off (my FABTASTIC face paint) so I’m going to love you and leave you all. (Does anyone know if you can re-use face gems? Because I have three????? What do I do with three????? Any advice?!)

Big shoutout to my Crew (I think I’ll use this word as a substitute for Squad) from TGS who I miss dearly. Will see you all on Sports Day (wink) when we will be supporting… *drum roll* NOBODY. We will support ourselves to be honest. That sounds like a great idea. Anyway. Miss you Crew. Miss you Astellia. Miss you Baes.

Take care and goodnight. (And I’m really sorry but I WILL do that Blogger Award tomorrow… I will. You have my word.)

Queen Rianna


10 Things I Hate About You

Romantic Comedies, otherwise known as Rom-Coms.

These are one of the only things with which I have a simultaneous love-hate relationship. Naturally, I’m not going to talk about why I love them so much… because really, I hate them. They have absolutely destroyed me. They have put a million unrealistic goals and expectations in my mind for what to expect from future relationships. As a result, as a means of revenge, I’m basically going to pick apart all the cliches.

So without further ado…


The protagonist is either a youngish/middle-aged woman who has failed at love several times (and often has to attend her younger sister’s wedding to just reiterate how much of a failure at love she is) or a woman who is completely smitten with her absolutely perfect boyfriend/fiancee whom she doesn’t know is cheating on her with her best friend/work colleague/enemy, etc.

Her love interest is either the playboy/womaniser who has slept with half of her office (the female half) and her entire block in her apartment, the unexpected guy (the dweeby one, who she never sees as attractive until the end) or the best friend who is there for her 24/7 and whom she VICIOUSLY friendzones every time he attempts to make his feelings for her clear. Often, they are a combination of these: you can have the playboy best friend, – who has sworn off love, until he realises that he has fallen for his best friend – or the unexpected best friend – the guy who is so sweet and lovely and we GENUINELY do not see it coming (but this is more rare; they are super predictable).

The protagonist often has two best friends – a sassy-but-sensible gay guy and a chunkier, wilder version of herself. Sometimes the younger/elder sister counts as a best friend, but not often. Her best friends are the ones who push her to do things that she would never dream of doing. They’re the ones who simultaneously come up with the crazy ideas and also dissuade her from them when things start going wrong. Because they DO go wrong. A lot.

The protagonist usually has a very selfish, self-centered mother who is obsessed with marriage. If, as it is usually, the protagonist’s younger sister is getting married, the mother is the one who wants the protagonist to get a wealthy boyfriend. She often tries to set her daughter up with friend’s sons and gets very angry when the blind dates don’t go well. If the protagonist doesn’t have a mother, it’s usually because she’s dead.

The protagonist’s father is usually estranged from the mother and is dating a woman the same age or younger than the protagonist. He isn’t often in it much, or he’s dead, or lives in a different country. However, he proves to sometimes be a huge emotional support for the protagonist and is usually the one who predicts her future love life. (i.e. He often is the one who says her and her best friend will end up married).


In my opinion, there are several archetypal plots for these movies:

1. The Jigsaw Piece – The protagonist tells her mum in a mad moment of irrationality that she has a date for her sister’s wedding. As a result, her best friend has to step in and they pretend to date, for the benefit of their family. Eventually, they both realise (usually only the protagonist realises, because her best friend has been in love with her for YEARS) that they are just meant to be together, usually after a kiss which means more than it’s supposed to. Then everything just fits into place.

2. The Replacement – The protagonist who has sworn off love and often hears about the conquests of her playboy best friend, goes on holiday or AWOL for some reason or other. While away, she meets a guy and brings him back right around the time that her best friend discovers he has feelings for her and is going to tell her. Then he (the love interest) spends the next couple of weeks/months leading up to the wedding trying to figure out how to tell her before it’s too late.

3. The Change – The protagonist has just discovered/been alerted to the fact that he boyfriend/fiancee has cheated on her, or she is sick of the fact that she ‘settles’ for guys when she knows she can do way better. She turns to her friends for advice and they all suggest that she re-invents herself in order to become a new person and move on. Whilst she is in this phase, she becomes closer with a friend/neighbour who is a playboy. She uses his expertise to help her re-invent herself and they share a kiss at some point which means more than it should. The guy realises he wants to be with her and she wants to be but is unsure because of his history.

THE DENOUMENT – The Neat Ending

1. The Wedding Crasher – The best friend-turned-love interest decides not to go to the wedding and watch the girl he loves be married to someone else. At the last moment, he decides (often by the encouragement of his friend) that he should not let this girl go and races to her wedding to stop her from getting married. In the end he tells her that HE wants to marry her and that he has serious feelings for her.

2. The Proposal – The protagonist is sick of wasting her time with silly boyfriends so is holding out for the real thing. The love interest is – conveniently – a commitment-phobe, but realises he would rather commit himself to the protagonist than not risk a great opportunity. It is very unexpected – NOT – but he hints at it a lot.

3. The Declaration (Often links with ‘The Proposal’) – Lots of things have happened throughout the movie which don’t make much sense to the protagonist until the best friend/love interest confesses everything. He explains to her why he has done all those crazy things in the beginning and basically admits that he has fallen in love with her or has been in love with her for a number of years/months or whatever. Sometimes this could end with ‘The Proposal’ but often it just allows the two characters to kiss. Sometimes at the end, you get a snippet of ‘Moving In’, when the two have decided to live with each other.



1. GIRL: (After a bad date) It was so terrible, I can’t believe it. I have no luck, I am never going to find anybody.

GUY: (Staring at her) Anyone would be so lucky to have you, seriously.

GIRL: (Looking up at him) Awwwwwr [insert Guy’s name here] you are the best friend a girl could ask for.

2. GIRL: (In a jokey, platonic sense) I love you so much.

GUY: (Takes a deep breath, in a serious, romantic sense) I love you too.

3. GIRL: (Coming out of a dressing room in something super sexy) Does this look alright?

GUY: (Pauses) Yeah, you look… fantastic.

GIRL: (Spinning and oblivious to the fact that he is now admiring her butt) Because I’m not sure if he [insert different guy’s name] will like it, I mean…

GUY: (With some effort) I’m sure he’ll love it. You look really good.

GIRL: I’m actually SO glad I can take you shopping with me. You’re the only guy who doesn’t check me out.


4. GIRL: (Addressing her best friend) Ew, that’s weird, you’re like my brother!


1. GIRL/GUY: We need to talk about that kiss.

2. GIRL/GUY: (To another person about their love interest) They don’t mean anything to me! (NB: We saw a VERY bad case of this in HSM, but it does actually happen in some RomComs)

3. GUY: (When he has been caught with another girl) I can explain.

GIRL: (Turning, shaking her head and runs out of the room)

4. GIRL: (Looking at the sunset/piece of art etc.) Isn’t it beautiful?

GUY: (Looking at the girl) Yeah. It is.

5. GIRL: (Comes down the stairs/enters the room in a fancy outfit, really dressed up) Whuddya think?

GUY: (Speechless) Uhm… WOW.

GIRL: (Looking worried) Is it my hair? Is this dress too short? What? What is it?

GUY: No you look…

GIRL: (Still worried) I look…

GUY: Wow.

GIRL: (Looking bemused) I look ‘wow’?

GUY: Yes. I mean, NO! You look…

GIRL: (Laughs) You really make a girl feel special. (Walks off and forgets about it)

6. GIRL: I thought you were different.

7. GIRL: I trusted you.

8. (In alternating segments)

GIRL: (To her friend) He has the most amazing eyes. And he just LISTENS to me, yaknow?

GUY: (To his friend) Her figure is just… (makes shape with hands) POW. And I couldn’t stop staring at her BAZOOKAS.

GIRL: (To her friend) He treats his little brother so well, he is a great person all round, he has a lovely personality.

GUY: (To his friend) And her butt in that dress! Wow, I am going to ignore the fact that she has a great personality and just make comments about her body!


1. No matter what the guy is like, if he loves you then you can change him.

2. The first person you fall in love with will be the person you remain with for the rest of your life.

3. Your best friend is in love with you, he/she is just waiting for the chance to tell you.

4. Guys are always chauvinistic pigs. Except for your best friend. He’s only a chauvinistic pig when he’s around his friend, but then you change him.

5. There are no barriers to true love. Even if the person is going to get married, if they’re in a long term relationship, it doesn’t matter. There aren’t any barriers.

6. Getting married is the end of the story. Once you get married, that’s it. You have cracked the code, you have achieved perfection. There is no more work to be done.

7. Marrying someone whom you haven’t known for very long is very sensible.

8. It doesn’t matter if you’re about to marry someone who you know doesn’t suit you very well, because your TRUE love will gatecrash the wedding and stop you from doing it anyway.

9. Gatecrashing weddings and stealing the bride is oh-so romantic.

10. Always wait until the latest possible minute to declare your love for somebody, JUST to make it very inconvenient for them. In fact, wait until RIGHT near the end when everything seems impossible. Because they will always give up their plans at the drop of a hat for you.

So there you have it. I don’t really want to go on anymore, because I feel like I’ve covered the majority of it. But that is it really though isn’t it? I mean, I’m speaking for the majority of these movies here, which makes sense I think.

Anyways, I’m off now. Back to London later (unfortunately) so need to finish packing… And don’t worry Susanna, I’ll do the post at some point. I promise.

I’ve also been nominated for the Creative Blogger Award, so I’ll do that at some point this week.


Queen Rianna


Here We Go

Right. So. I’m just standing around in the kitchen waiting for my cheesecake to bake; so I thought, why not be useful and post on my blog?

So that’s what I’m doing. Seeing as I didn’t get to post my made-up, impromptu recipe for the pasta bake yesterday, I thought it might be a good idea to post the recipe for my cheesecake.

But there’s a story first. LOL.

If you should know one thing about me, it’s that I can’t bake to save my life. My cakes come out looking like pancakes and tasting like tarts, and my cookies are often rock solid and a tad TOO crispy. (Not burnt, just crispy). But anyway. From Years 7 through to Years 9, we have to do Food Technology at school. Seeing as the majority of Food Tech teachers can’t actually cook, for most of the recipes, I changed them or brought in extra ingredients. One week, the recipe we were making was cheesecake. The teacher said we needed to bring yoghurt so I thought NO WAY, and went home and got my own recipe. I found a really great one for white chocolate, except it included eggs, which would mean I would need to bake it.

HOWEVER, (seeing as I didn’t follow her recipes) my Food Tech teacher absolutely loved me because my food always came out looking – and tasting – fantastic. When I brought in all the ingredients (including the eggs) she was more than happy to let me bake my cheesecake.

When I took it home, I’m not actually sure if I was able to eat more than one slice.

Not that it was disgusting, but my family stole every single slice. Since then, whenever she feels like it, my mum will tell me to make a cheesecake. I also managed to alter my recipe to make a lemon and lime no-bake cheesecake, but my white chocolate one is – and always will be – the original.

I’ve literally baked it so many times and so often that I don’t even use a recipe anymore. I literally work it all from memory. I changed parts of it as I went along, developing it and making it better, so this is my new and improved homemade White Chocolate Cheesecake recipe. Enjoy:

Preparation Time: Who actually knows? I never time myself. And I usually dance about the kitchen while I’m doing it… So I would say, if you’re like me, give yourself 2 hours, MINIMUM.

Cooking Time: Once again, I have no idea. I mostly whack it into the oven and check it at regular intervals. You just have to make sure it’s kind of brownish on top.

Serves: Depending on the members of your family, usually only about 2; as 2 people (not mentioning any NAMES, Tey and D-Qu’aan!) will eat the whole thing by themselves.


  • Two tubs of 150g Philadelphia Cream Cheese (this probably sounds obvious, but DON’T buy flavoured tubs unless you want to bake a Chive and White Chocolate Cheesecake)
  • A carton of cream (whichever cream, doesn’t matter; soya works really well) preferably single/double
  • Two eggs (if the eggs are REALLY large then you could probably get away with one…)
  • A packet of digestives (once again, plain, unless you want a chocolate base as well; and buy a decent sized packet)
  • 150g UNSALTED butter (I really cannot stress unsalted enough)
  • 250g White Cooking Chocolate (you can use dark or milk as an alternative if you want)


For the base:

  1. Melt 150g of butter in a pot slowly. While the butter is melting, put about 12 biscuits into a plastic bag and smash them, either with a wooden spoon or a rolling pin. (TIP: Rolling pins are better, the smashing is more effective!)
  2. When the biscuits are entirely crushed (TIP: Having small clumps are OK, they make the base slightly crunchy) empty them into a flat dish, like a flan dish or something.
  3. Pour the butter on top of the biscuits and mix the butter with all the biscuits with a METAL spoon. When the butter is evenly mixed, (the biscuits should have gone slightly darker) flatten the mixture along the bottom of the dish evenly with the METAL spoon. (TIP: Only use metal spoons, wooden spoons are not very effective for this recipe)
  4. Put the dish in the fridge to chill and set.

For the cheese mixture:

  1. Add 300g of Philadelphia cheese into a mixing bowl. Pour about 150g (TIP: Don’t measure it out exactly. Just pour about half of the cream – if you have a 300g carton) into the mixing bowl and mix the cheese and cream together with a METAL spoon.
  2. Add the eggs to the mixture and whisk well.
  3. Put 250g of White Cooking Chocolate into a glass bowl. THIS IS THE REALLY IMPORTANT BIT. Pour some hot water into a pot and put the glass bowl with the chocolate ON TOP of the pot. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT let the hot water touch the bottom of the glass bowl. This may take a few tries.
  4. Allow the chocolate to melt, mixing regularly with a metal spoon.
  5. Add the melted chocolate to the mixing bowl and whisk again. Make sure the mixture is really creamy but slightly thick. If it’s super runny then you either added too much cream or not enough cheese. (TIP: Don’t forget to panic when you drop the hot bowl of chocolate into the mixing bowl… Once you have regained composure, just take the bowl out and take a few deep breaths… it happens to the best of people 🙂 i.e. me )

Preparation for the Oven:

  1. Pour the cheese mixture on top of the biscuit base.
  2. This is optional, but if you want to, crush about 3 more biscuits and sprinkle the biscuit around the edges of the tin on top of the cheesecake. (This just makes the cheesecake look more pretty to be honest… It also tastes better – more biscuit = more taste)
  3. Turn on the oven. If you have a fan oven, put it a 200 degrees Celsius (I’m sorry, I don’t know Fahrenheit). If you don’t have a fan oven, then BUY a fan oven, and put it at 200 degrees Celsius. (No seriously, I have a fan oven, so everything for me is by fan oven; I’m sure you could just Google an alternative?)
  4. Put it in the oven.
  5. Check it regularly. It might help to sometimes give it a little shake to see how much it has set. (i.e. If it wobbles a LOT, then it’s not ready. If it wobbles a LITTLE, then it’s close to being ready)
  6. When it looks slightly brown, when you can smell biscuits when you open the oven door and when it only wobbles a TINY bit, then take it out.
  7. USE OVEN GLOVES. I cannot stress this enough. DO NOT USE a dishcloth. USE OVEN GLOVES.
  8. Let it cool for a while and then leave it in the fridge to set for longer.


So there it is. A fantastic recipe if you ever think, HEY, I want to make a cheesecake; plus my added commentary.

I really don’t know what I’m doing with my life right now. I’ll post a bit later (hopefully, Susanna!) depending on what time I get home and stuff.


Queen Rianna


I Have No

Inspiration right now.

Because of the fact that time is a limiting factor (gotta use my biology key words SOMEWHERE), tomorrow I’m going to do a post about something long and interesting. Right now, I’ll just give you an update on what’s happened in the past couple of days.

So, I’m out of London. (Woohoo!) I’m with Auntie Y and we have had lots of banter. I had to cook some pasta bake thing, and seeing as it’s not my kitchen, I’m obviously not used to working in it. But kitchens are kitchens, and once you know how to use the hob, then you’re fine, right?


I cook like a hurricane. Not that hurricanes can cook, but the mess left behind after I finish is ridiculous. (I mean, it mostly depends on what I’m cooking, but usually the kitchen looks close to a bomb site when I’ve finished…)

Anyway, I spent the first half hour in her kitchen asking her where everything was. (She was in the living room).

ME: “Where is one’s seasonings?”

AUNT: “One’s seasonings are in the magic corner.”

ME: (After some looking) “One has found them!” (After a pause) “Where is one’s wooden sp… Oh no wait, I found it. Never mind.” (Another pause) “What has one done with one’s grater?”

AUNT: “One’s grater is in the cupboard beside the fridge.”

ME: (Looking) “No, it’s not in this cupboard, I… Oh wait, you meant the one at the top. OK, I found it!”

And so on.

Maybe I’ll give you the recipe for my pasta bake one day. Probably not, because I mostly just made it up. Don’t tell my Aunt though! I mean… not that you could since you don’t know her but… Yeah…

I’m going off.

I’ve been into town with my cousin twice, and we went to Costa. I’d like to make it known here that COSTA HOT CHOCOLATE IS THE BEST IN THE WORLD. Even their cream is so gorgeous OH MY GOODNESS. But seriously. And I’ll be going back there soon when I get back to London.

Also, Susanna and I are going to loads of museums. The free ones of course. And maybe the #Squad might be able to sneak in a trip to Hampton Court Palace, depending on the prices. And how much money we have.

So far, I have been keeping up with a few of my Summer goals:

  • I haven’t woken up anytime before 7. LOL.
  • I had a mini Disney Dance Party the other day.
  • Last week my nails were nude. This week they’re white.
  • I played Sims 3.
  • I’m perfecting my Bristolian (West England) accent.
  • I have posted a few stupid photos of myself on Instagram. (i.e. me pulling stupid poses)
  • I haven’t GONE on it yet, but myself and the besties have gotten dates for our… well, date.

Unfortunately, I can’t start on the guitar learning, seeing as I’m not in London. I also can’t do much about the baby thing, because I’m still looking for one. 😦

But I’m going to stop now, because I’ve been typing whilst watching ‘The Originals: Teen Mom’ and I’ve missed a lot, so now I need to rewind bits. Not that it’s a huge issue, but… I needed to post something today.

Goodnight everybody. Or should I say, good morning.

Queen Rianna


A Few Reasons Why Elderly People Are Better Than Teenagers

I don’t even need much of an introduction, except to say that YES, I will generalise; YES, you may not agree, but NO it doesn’t matter to me. This is a matter of opinion. Opinion being the key word. Obviously, I am basing my viewpoint on my personal experience. You might think or have experienced differently, and that’s OK. We are all entitled to our own opinions. 🙂

So. A few reasons why (in my opinion) elderly people are better than teenagers:

  1. Every sentence is not punctuated with “like”, “basically” and “literally”.
  2. You can have some very intelligible conversations with them.
  3. They’ve experienced a LOT. And the cool ones are the ones that tell you the stuff they’ve gone through.
  4. They might have gone through really large events in History. (i.e. my grandad came over on the Windrush) It is more exciting to hear it from them than from a History textbook.
  5. They really have no shame.
  6. They make FUNNY jokes. Dying is one of the main themes of these.
  7. A lot of them don’t understand slang. When you speak slang to them, it’s very funny.
  8. They are just so adorable when they ask you to help them with technology.
  9. They can be so sassy to their children, and it’s so funny, because it’s like little adults that are getting dissed by the BIG adults.
  10. CLOTHES! Their wardrobes are like stepping into the past. And it’s all original stuff!
  11. They use very eloquent language. I learn some great words from them.
  12. They are so polite.
  13. They don’t scowl at you for no reason.
  14. Elderly ladies have a horde of younger boyfriends (i.e. my grandmother) LOOL
  15. ^^ ((That was a joke – she’s married – but she makes jokes about having other boyfriends. Which I think qualifies for this list to be honest, because… That’s fantastic))
  16. They are so articulate in their description of events and when they are talking to you. Yes, it may take them 2 hours to tell you a 15-minute story, but hey! At least you get some good laughs in there as well.
  17. They mock everyone.
  18. They’re like little children, on the honesty front; they just say everything as it is. (OK, so sometimes, SOME can be slightly rude about it, but the ones who love you are polite about it!)
  19. When you see them with their best friends, they’re like little children. It’s absolutely adorable.
  20. They’ll give you money for no other reason other than the fact that they just want to.

I mean, this is all quite biased, but for some reason, I find OAPs so much more interesting and engaging than teenagers. Maybe it’s just the people whom I know.

At any rate, I seem to have lost all of my writing abilities, so I’m going to wait for a while to regain my skills. Recharge.

Stay safe everybody. Please don’t go out meeting random elderly people, because that’s a tad worrying.

Queen Rianna


More Anti-Jokes

Question: What is worse than when one half of your OTP dies?

Answer: BOTH halves of your OTP dying.

(For all those who are uneducated on OTPs and shipping and such, kindly close this browser and do some research. Then when you have found it out, ignore it all. Don’t get involved. It is emotionally damaging).

Question: And what, pray tell, is even worse than BOTH halves of your fictional OTP dying?

Once again, I’ll help you out.

Answer: When both halves of your REAL LIFE OTP die.

How, Rianna, could you possibly have real life OTPs? And that is a very good question.

As you may (or may not) know, I am a stickler for Historical Fiction. Like, seriously. I am ADDICTED to the Tudors and their predecessors and their family lines and just WOW. They fascinate me.

Let me just tell you now; if you aren’t into reading, you may not understand this, but if you are then you will completely get me when I say that reading is an emotional process. You can’t ‘just read’. If you are reading PROPERLY and the author is good and the writing and plot is good, then it goes without saying that you are going to form emotional attachments to the characters within the book. Now, with fiction, it’s already a problem, because you end up falling in love with people who DON’T EXIST (i.e. Percy Jackson, Peter Kavinski – not sure if that’s how you spell it but, oh well – Liam James etc.) and find yourself just WISHING to be their female love interests.

Now, imagine – just IMAGINE – what happens to you when the people who you have fallen so deeply for end up dying. Imagine the emotional reaction which that incites. (I don’t have to imagine, I’ve cried very many times)

So take those feelings – those imagined or real feelings, whatever – and think, for a moment, how much more painful this would be for you knowing that these people REALLY existed.

The title ‘Historical Fiction’ is slightly misleading, because it makes you think that the authors have imagined every single person and event that happened. This is quite untrue. As a matter of fact, the only reason that they have to call it ‘Historical Fiction’ is because sometimes, certain events are made up for creative purposes, as not every single event was recorded in the history books, and there are many rumours and conspiracy theories which the writers can choose to investigate or disregard. And of course, there is no way of guaranteeing that any of the dialogue which takes place ACTUALLY took place. But, technically speaking, it is VERY much real.

For me, the QUEEN of Historical Fiction is Philippa Gregory. (Seriously, fight me on this). Alison Weir, Jean Plaidy and all those are good as well, but my absolute favourite is Philippa Gregory. At any rate, I’ve read an awful amount of Historical Fiction (especially hers… actually, ALL of hers) around the Tudors, starting from, like, Jacquetta of Burgundy, all the way to Elizabeth I…

But let me tell you:

Nothing, and I repeat, NOTHING can prepare you for the intensely deep connections which you form with these ACTUAL human beings as you read. Because of the skilled depiction of characters who are so often presented as evil, or seductresses, or witches (i.e. ANNE BOLEYN) you find yourself actually sympathising with these people who we cast off as horrid, and in fact see a human side to them.

But, I’m going off here. That wasn’t my original point. I could talk about the Tudors and their lineage ALL day, but I’m here to whine about my dead OTPs.

So as I was saying. When you form a close personal bond with these people, it is almost as if you are there with them, falling in love with them all over again and then suddenly…

BAM. One of them is dead.

No seriously. Everything genuinely happens that quickly. Which is even worse, because you’re just sitting there reading about how the protagonist’s husband ‘incites feelings of happiness and a never-ending joy which she never thought she could ever experience, and how she feels so blessed to be carrying his child and the pride she feels of their two eldest in the nursery’…

And then suddenly, a messenger appears and is like to her, “Oh he’s dead.” (But in a much more circuitous way, because they NEVER say anything outright, my days! There’s always a really long pause, and usually the avoidance of eye contact until eventually, the protagonist figures out what has happened before the messenger can even deliver his message).

And you can just sense her distress as she has to ask SUPER calmly, (like a lady of course), “What happened?”

The answer is usually a variant of: Killed in battle/fever or plague/sweating sickness/don’t know, he just didn’t wake up/was murdered.

And it’s just the reactions! Because she has to take it all in calmly and dismiss the servant and she is dying inside because just a minute ago, she was GUSHING about him and now suddenly, he is gone. At any rate, the fact that these people existed makes it even worse. Because this is a REAL person’s grief that you are sharing. (Yes, I cry every single time one dies). And what I’ve noticed is that EVERY SINGLE ONE of my real life OTPs have either had premature deaths or been split up.

A la my list:

  1. Dowager Queen Katharine (Princess of Valois) and Owen Tudor

This one got me because technically speaking, she wasn’t supposed to marry him. She was a Dowager Queen and he was a servant but of course TRUE LOVE PREVAILED and they got married despite it all. They had three lovely sons (one of whom was the father of King Henry VII and the grandfather of King Henry VIII) and a daughter (but she died)… And then Katharine went a bit mad and LEFT OWEN to join a convent, because she didn’t want to put him through the stress of her being mad and forgetting herself. (Her dad had a mental illness too, so it was probably hereditary). After which she DIED in the abbey and Owen was arrested and was later released. After which he joined some Welsh uprising (I’m just summarising here, obviously it was a lot longer process than that) and was captured and EXECUTED.

  1. Elizabeth Grey (nee Woodville) and King Edward VI of England

They met and he fell in love with her even though she was a widow of the opposite house (Yorks and Lancasters) but they got married in secret and he defied EVERYONE for her… and then he just died. Randomly. Of some sickness or something. And just left her behind, and she was vulnerable and had to claim sanctuary (basically, the majority of the court hated her and her family and… ARGH).

  1. Anne Boleyn and Henry Percy of Northumberland

Everybody always casts Anne Boleyn as some vicious, man-stealing woman, but nobody remembers that her family was one of THE most powerful families in all of England. The Howards were very ambitious and had no qualms in putting one of their girls on the line just to catapult the rest of their family into Royal favour. Nobody ever thinks about the fact that Anne Boleyn had a life before King Henry VIII. In fact, she was in love with a young courtier called Henry Percy, and the two of them were so sweet and lovely and they were planning on getting married.

But they were denied. And split up. And then Henry Percy was forced to marry someone else. And Anne Boleyn ended up swiping King Henry from under Katharine’s nose… and was later rendered headless.

  1. Princess Katarina of Aragon and Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales 

Better known as Katharine of Aragon, she never was supposed to marry Henry. In fact, she married Henry’s elder brother Arthur (who later died) and they were young, but there were reports that the young couple were so in love and doted on each other so much. Imagine. You’ve come from a faraway country to get married and you’re so in love with your new, young, handsome husband (which is a lot more than most Princesses could ask for, TRUST ME) and you’re so looking forward to having his heirs and being a good Queen… and then suddenly he’s dead.

And then you have to marry his brother in order to keep your dower lands.

I have loads more real life OTPs from this time period, but let’s just limit it to those ones before I get too emotional. Literally. I’m crying as I write this. YES, it is that deep.

I’m going to stop now, before my tears mingle with the electric circuit of my laptop and break it or something.

Love from the tearful Queen Rianna