I have moved...

You can find my new blog over at http://alexbettylou.wordpress.com/ complete with all these posts and more!

Life Without Plastic

It's a Saturday afternoon and I'm sat in my pyjamas, having achieved the sum amount of nothing today. I should be out shopping, at the cinema, meeting friends for lunch, on a weekend away - any number of things but couped up on the sofa with the Hollyoaks omnibus. To be fair, I haven't had time to watch Hollyoaks this week so it's a bonus, but I'm not a big fan of lazing around when there's a big world outside I could be experiencing. Unfortunately my small part of that world is torrential and I don't fancy tottering around knee deep in rain water.

But it's not the rain that's the issue, it's the cost of life. Every activity seems to involve some form of expenditure, and since I'm on a mission to save a few thousand pounds with which to escape to New Zealand, I have taken to living my life without plastic. Plastic cards, that is - namely of the debit and credit variety. I'd been doing alright until today. If I was bored I'd go out for a walk, or window shopping (although I have no idea why I torment myself looking at pretty things I can't buy), but there is only so much a person can take before the desire to rebel sets in. I'm on the verge of cutting up my cards just to prevent myself from giving in to the urge to hotfoot down to town and render myself penniless - max out my credit and bleed my savings dry. Or, since it's raining, log in to eBay and partake in some extreme e-commerce.

I've run out of ideas of how to live even a slightly eventful life whilst on a shoestring. As mentioned in a previous post, A jammy dodger, July 2008, I'm lucky enough to be able to do nice things without paying out. But I can't always rely on my lucky streak. I get bored very easily, perhaps why I'm beginning to spend time blogging when I've never managed to previously. It's a free form of keeping myself entertained. So what to do when I've not got a coupon, voucher or competition prize of some sort to cash in? I've not found the answer, hence why I am itching for a cheeky purchase of some sort, just to tide myself over, relieve the boredom. Like methadone for a recovering spendfreak.

I never thought I was particularly extravagant until I reigned in my spending habits. When I go out, I don't spend much because I'm not a big drinker, I don't shop unless I have an item of clothing that is falling to threads and needs replacing, I don't buy DVDs or CDs, I'm really savvy on a food shop with picking up bargains. The list of my tightarse ways is endless, but I didn't realise it's the little things that add up. I loved a Starbucks every couple of days, a few of those chavvy chat magazines (the ones with Jeremy Kyle and Trisha writing the agony columns), a muffin and coffee with friends, a bottle of wine here and there for a meal... It all adds up, little by little, to an extra £100 odd that I could put onto my increasing overdraft.

Since deciding to emigrate, in April, it's all stopped. I've become money obsessed - keeping track of every penny. The number of times I have to tell my friends that I can't do lunch, or I'll come to the pub but I'm not drinking - even soft drinks; or I'll totter around town with a friend while she shops and I look on enviously, or request we go to a particular coffeehouse just so I can use my vouchers. I love them all for putting up with my madness.

But finally, acting strapped for cash is paying off - literally. I've paid off my overdraft (after two years of pretending it was my money to spend), I've bought an overpriced one way ticket to New Zealand and I've managed to save up half my target savings for emigrating with - with another 4 months to save the rest. And it's taught me alot too, about the value of a penny when I'd only really known the value of a pound. I'm now the queen of stretching leftovers to last a couple more meals, and making bizarrely tasty concoctions out of tinned food - I could give Jesus a run for his money, feeding the 5 million to his 5 thousand, with 5 loaves of bread and a couple of trout.

So, life without plastic is going well, even if it's frustrating. And as it's getting increasingly difficult to stop myself thinking 'just one little skirt/dress/pair of shoes/lunch out' won't hurt, I am taking to leaving my cards locked away at home, away from temptation. Because I know it'll all be so worth it once I'm in New Zealand, trebling my money - dollar for pound. I just hope I don't go crazy once I'm there...

Emotive Art

I get teary eyed over music, mainly when I hear a beautiful vocal piece as I'm passionate about singing but haven't been blessed with an incredible natural talent for it. I have been known to sob like a little girl watching films or TV (for example Max's death in Hollyoaks and any emotive moment in Friends - even when watching an episode for the billionth time). I was overwhelmed when I saw The Lion King on stage and cried from the opening note to the closing curtain. To round it up, when it comes to emotional reactions to cultural experiences (highbrow or not), I am unashamedly affective. And so I felt compelled to write about a gargantuan artistic creation which inexplicably moved me.

It was presented to me in the form of a video during an Arts Marketing conference earlier this week. During what was otherwise an unimpressive seminar came this snippet of something magical, unbelievable, astounding, dumbfounding in some ways and I found myself completely drawn into it - even watching it second hand. I'm writing about The Sultan's Elephant, an event which took place last year and the clip of which doesn't begin to do it justice but was the best I could find. From 4th to 7th May 2007 the streets of London were transformed into the scenery of a storybook - the story of a little girl and a time machine in the form of a giant mechanical elephant. I'd never been aware of it until now, which is unsurprising since what goes on in London stays in London, because the UK starts at Uxbridge and ends in Seven Oaks. Hmmm, topical...

It seems as though a large percentage of the capital's population did know about the event however, as it was guesstimated over 1 million people spilled out onto the apparently gold paved streets of London to see what the craic was all about. And I would confidently say that not one person was disappointed; nobody who turned out that day was not touched by what they saw. The 'little girl' that the story revolves around is recreated as a 20ft giant puppet. And yet she is so real, as she walks along the street, looking around doe-eyed and with such innocence, she could be everyman's child. As several grown men struggle to dress her in socks and boat sized shoes, she instantly appears more vulnerable than her size would suggest. As children play with her - swinging on her arms - she becomes even more human, making eye contact with each child as though sharing in the experience mentally and emotionally. It's easy to forget that you're watching a puppet, and this is reflected by the reaction of the crowds. The clip I have linked to doesn't show the audience, but as the story draws to an end for the finale performance, there is a sea of people crying as the 'little' girl returns to whence she came.

It could be deemed an overreaction, but I can appreciate that the atmosphere at the event must have been extraordinary. The crowd do not just watch a performance - they collectively form an emotional bond with this child and being so close to her within the performance space, they become part of the tale. Over a million people enjoying, loving the mutual experience they are sharing is something so scarce that a powerfully warm ambiance would have incited a similarly strong, warm reaction.

The Sultan's Elephant costed millions of pounds to create and stage, and some would argue it is wasted money in a world with universal poverty issues, but I would disagree. The arts can cross language and culture barriers and remind us we are essentially the same. The arts remind us not to take life too seriously, they remind us how to feel and they make us think. The arts add magic in a world where scientific and technological advances disallow any room for wonderment, folk tale and imagination. Cultural experiences are so important for bringing people together when we would otherwise become immersed in our individual lives. The little girl giant is the child inside all of us - our innocence from a time where every experience was new. It is the arts that allow us to carry on experiencing new things from cradle to grave. And you can't put a price on that.

Florita's - Miami or Medley?

I said I'd review a new bar in town for website newcastlecentric.com. Well, a newly-improved bar, I should say. The owners of the popular, trendy bar Apartment on Collingwood Street, Vibrant Ventures, decided that after five years it was time for a makeover. Vibrant Ventures are responsible for the growing number of thematic bars across Newcastle - including Jesmond's Mr Lynch and As You Like It, and Nancy's Bordello on the edge of Byker. Each bar has a different theme whilst being unmistakeably similar in style; all are decked out in vintage mismatched furniture from an era or place relevant to its theme, along with patterned wallpaper and plentiful knickknackery for added authenticity - from fake plants and paintings to light fixtures and ornaments. There must be a depot for cast off vintage shite somewhere, I would love to pay it a visit, being a huge fan of bric-a-brac, car boot sales and flea markets. Although I could probably do with keeping well away, as I have no self restraint when it comes to miscellaneous junk - I'd end up with a home decorated half in delicate Victorian style floral soft furnishings and half like some garish 70's boudoir out of Boogie Nights.

And so back to topic, Apartment has now been brought into line with its sister venues, which speaks volumes about the success of this particular niche in the market which Vibrant Ventures has found. Thematic bars, not of the tacky variety championed by the likes of Buffalo Joes or Baja Beach Club, but of the retro cool kind. The newly named Florita's is described as a Miami Bar and Tropical Garden, but the décor is a medley of English country house chintz patterned chairs, stateside diner style benches, neon signage and post modernist artworks. The wall mural behind the bar seems to be more inspired by tattooed bikers than a Miami scene. That said, the atmosphere is definitely tropical, from the ornamental inflatable pink flamingoes to the abundance of fake exotic foliage. The ‘Tropical Garden’ does feel reminiscent of a botanical surrounding of sorts; a wooden framed conservatory with copious leafage and an open roof so it doubles up as a smoking area - although with four enclosed walls it barely passes no-smoking legislation. There is an eminent warmth about the place too, although it is not obvious whether it is a deliberate addition to the tropical environment or if it’s simply a case of lots of bodies tightly packed in one place, along with a large quota of smokers all lit up within a few square metres.

The music with which to soak up Florita’s atmosphere is a fusion of party anthems and old classics which will definitely inspire your dancing shoes to start tapping and as there’s a lack of seating in the main room, there is a lot of floor space for making shapes. The drinks are priced similarly to most of Newcastle’s trendy bars, with soft drinks around £2, pints around £3 and cocktails in the £5 range. The cocktails are delicious and well worth parting with your pennies – particularly so for the gargantuan sized cocktails for sharing at around £17 each. They could well contain several portions of your daily guideline amount of fruit, all made using fresh ingredients and finished off with a tropical twist, served with fruit and a piece of greenery for good measure.

The drinks are served by bar staff who appear barely past legal drinking age, with table service provided by pretty young things tottering around in the latest fashions and unnaturally bronzed skin - much like in Miami I would guess, so at least that adds genuinity. There is a VIP area downstairs, although it is stressed that by VIP they do mean celebrities and footballers - which are thin on the ground in Newcastle so I'm unsure how they will manage to fill the area provided without allowing in the usual VIP crowd of WAG wannabes.

Florita’s is apparently a temporary arrangement for Vibrant Ventures, and after the summer the bar will be transformed again. It may not be the Miami style it aspires to but by no means is it a disappointment – just misrepresented. It’s definitely worth a visit while it remains as it’s a quirky change to Newcastle’s usual offerings and whether you see it as cool or kitsch, you’ll have to admit it has its charms.