I have not...

...forgotten about this blog.

It's been ages since I've last posted, so expect a nice chunk of shizzle in the next week or so. I have revelations, exciting news and many ponderings to post.

F x

Post 76: . .DROP THE DRAWBRIDGE. .

It's high time I posted this long overdue blog/joygasm/spazzfest about Nicky Haslam's party (16th Oct), if only for the one Madame Arcati's perusal as I'm not entirely certain anybody really reads this blog.

My previous post touched on falling asleep in the bathroom, but more importantly what I was going to wear to the bash. I managed to find pretty much everything I needed and all went well... polished my boots etc. before I left for London on Thursday afternoon. Picked up my blazer, which fits like a dream, from Selfridges before crashing into my hotel room at The Brompton in South Ken. Had a bit of tube trouble though, so by the time I got back to the room I had little time to get changed before making my way to Battersea to meet Andy and Peter (got a lot of looks as I strode up the King's Road all dressed up). Hung around until ten to eight before the three of us were definitely ready and began the trek to Cheyne Walk where we were expected for dinner at the Channon's place.

. .LET THE VAMPIRES IN. .

I think there were about fifteen of us at dinner. Peter sat over with Min Hogg, Nicky's lifelong friend; Henry Channon and some other people. Alas, David Cameron never showed. On the same table as me was Lord Norman Lamonte, who was a laugh, didn't speak to him much mind you, I think his wife was there; some guy called Mark who sat next to me; Katie, with whom I had a long conversation about painting; Georgie, Henry's sister, and her husband Ant; and there was another Henry there too. Andy also sat on the same table as me, so I wasn't completely alone. Mark started an awkward moment though when he asked the dreaded question, "So, Fish, how do you know Nicky?" In my head I ran through what I could say – a) come clean and admit to being his ex-stalker. b) secret lovechild. c) I can't remember what the third one was... so it probably wasn't very good – anyhow, I decided to just admit that I'd stalked the man. At my confession Katie leaned over and exclaimed, "He mentioned that on the phone! I thought he was joking!" Everybody went quiet then until Mark asked for the story in full... and a different silence descended upon the table, everybody was listening intently to my story and I think they thought me a bit of a freak afterwards, until I got into a political conversation and, being a tad drunk, admitted hands down that I'd be a total fascist if I was in charge, kicking all the immigrants out of the country... personally hunting them down and politely requesting they fuck off, and if they refuse then beating them silly while exclaiming "You've been battered!" then setting up some serious immigration laws/requirements a la Canada and Australia; and removing the UK from the EU as much as possible. Suddenly it appeared I was back in the good books. Hah.

So yes, at around ten o'clock we were picked up by cars waiting outside the house; well, down the road really. Peter, Andy, Freddy van Zevenbergen, Min and I piled into one of the cars and had a good chat on the way. Min had a few tales to tell of her teenage years with Nicky, which had me greatly amused. Andy and I practically hyperventilated in the back of the car. We got to the party – the pap were being kept well away from it, and I had a flashbulb go off in my face (the picture would have been awful) as we were driving into the grounds. Two security tents later and we were off up the illuminated runway to the front of Parkstead House, where we were dropped off – I practically fell out of the car due to the wine in my system. I was told it was a very expensive bottle at dinner, but it tasted like the Ravelli Chianti I get from Tesco for £8, which I am a total whore for.

After successfully tackling the stairs, we faced the entrance. I half shuffled, half swaggered in after Andy, who Nicky greeted rather enthusiastically. I wondered if he was perhaps a tad drunk. It was when he clocked me and practically threw Andy aside whilst exclaiming, "Fish! My Fish!" that it became apparent that it wasn't just booze. Flashbulbs were everywhere and all I remember thinking was "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" After being greeted by the Birthday Boy we sort of milled about upstairs before we moved to the stairs and descended into the chaos that was 800 people (sardines) in the marquee, which was absolutely gorgeous (and huge). It was apparent to me as soon as I arrived downstairs that although everybody seemed to be everywhere they were all in their own little groups – nobody was really willing to talk to anybody new... except in the smokers area. Nicky dancing was wonderful to see... I practically jumped him on the revolving dance floor at one point for about three seconds, which he seemed to enjoy. I have a picture of him dancing with Lady Rothschild, though the quality is unbelievably awful... damn my phone!

So... on to the name-dropping I suppose – I'll just throw it here in one big lump as I didn't really get up to a great deal of anything except wandering around aimlessly... getting slowly drunk. These are a few of the people I got talking to... to be honest I can't remember most of the night.

I passed a photographer at one point who decided to snap me as I walked past. I stopped, turned and struck up a conversation – the "How do you know Nicky?" question was passed between us and we made small talk; just before we parted ways I enquired as to what his name might be? Richard Young. I visit his website every other day... and told him so, after profusely apologising for not recognising him. Oh the embarrassment!

Paris Hilton, who remembered me by the end of the evening and really didn't need that much security. She's quite sweet really, very charming. And intelligent. I was surprised. Wonder if she wants a portrait doing?

Bryan Ferry gave me evils whenever he saw me, I don't know if he was just brooding over something or saved that 'you are the root of all evil' look for me – I never said a word to him, though I did shoot a look back at him as if to say "What have I ever done to you?"

Got chatting to a charming young man from Dallas, John Stubbs, who is studying Art History and spending a semester in Florence – lucky git. His mother Kristy is an art dealer who Nicky buys from, and is lovely. I met them both in the smokers section. Kristy was supposed to text me John's number... and instead I ended up with some guy called Brian texting me. Hmmm.

Jagger and L'Wren never showed, it may have been to do with fact Molly Miller Mundy was there, and looking ravishing in her dress I might add... though it was more maroon than violet. Not many women wore violet - lots of black and silver (and diamonds of course)... though one woman turned up in lilac. Hmm.

Met Simon Mills too... I mentioned that I'd met his friend Dave Butler about a year ago, to which he replied "He's not my friend anymore." Ah, I see. So we instead talked music... which was good fun. He wasn't as much of an arse as I've heard... well not for that five minutes anyway.

The band were FAB! Really great, and I have to admire them for going on all evening – they played a great set. Small hiccup was a power outage to some of the lights and all the microphones, but they carried on – a drum and a couple of trumpets kept the crowd on the dancefloor, raving it up.

Got in the last minibus at 3:45ish with Christopher Haslam, Nicky's nephew, and went back to his flat just off Beaufort St from 4:30am until 9:30ish where we drank tea and talked art, music and Nicky and then had scrambled eggs on toast with chipolatas... what fun. Bombed it back to hotel in South Ken and packed everything as had to check out at eleven. Was on the train at Liverpool Street station by 12:55. Got home, went to sleep.

Aside from Richard Young I met another photographer who smiled at me every time I walked past – we got chatting, though I never asked his name. I would have had to apologise profusely again as it turned out to be Dafydd Jones, whose site I also visit at least three times a day. He took down my name and sketched my hair on a little notepad and lo and behold...

SEE THIS - at 2:00 you can see us all approaching the stairs behind Hilary Alexander – literally 10 seconds after I fell out of the car.

Warmest regards,
Fish

. .WHILE YOU ARE LETTING YOUR GUARD DOWN. .
. .I WILL BE LETTING MYSELF GO. .
. .WHILE YOU KEEP RUNNING YOUR SHIP AGROUND. .
. .I WILL BE SETTING MYSELF ALIGHT. .

Post 75: . .IN ALL THE BURNING LETTERS UNDERNEATH MY BED. .

. .DON'T YOU WORRY ABOUT ME BABE. .
. .I'M RIGHT HERE FOR YOU TO SAVE. .

I've gotten into a very bad habit lately; it's another reason I should only shower in the mornings. I keep falling asleep on the bathroom floor. I can't help it; it's dark outside and cold, and it's toasty in the bathroom... swaddled in towels – I use a stupid amount, around five, and a jumper because it helps with the drying process – I get all drowsy... the floor just looks so inviting.

After waking up on the floor again I looked at the clock and saw the time was ten thirty, so I got dressed and went downstairs to make my morning cup of tea and have a smoke in the garden, only to see that it was still dark outside. 10:30PM. The thing is, I didn't realise my mistake immediately; my sleep fogged mind assumed instead that it was the end of the world, "It's half ten in the morning! Why is it still dark?!" Then, realisation dawned and I went back to bed. I should have been blonde, I swear... and a boy... but we all know that.

Big news – I've been invited to Nicky Haslam's 69th/celebration of 25 years of NH Design/party for Janet de Botton. I'm mentioning it now because my next big post will probably be one long joygasm about it. Got the invite in the post this morning. Outfit is a pain to get together. The dress code, or stress code, is 'black, violet and silver' (and let it be known that there will be 'dancing at 10pm' and 'no provision for coats'!)... and Nicky bought me there for it:

Yes, they're funky... but they really didn't work on me. After a brainstorming session with my sister the conclusion was that I looked like a tit and should never be seen wearing anything like that. I believe my words were "It's not a rave! People will point and laugh, and I'll have no choice but to hide under a table with a crate of champagne and drown my sorrows!" I hastily texted Nicky in a near hysterical state saying that I just couldn't wear them. Thankfully he said that was alright, so I've been shopping around on my onesy to sort out a getup that's a little more Fish. Here's the rundown of the manic week so far:

Monday – Nicky sent me the number of Anna – assistant to the PA of Phillip Green (shame on you if you need to google him) – she's lovely, the sort of person I'd like to go for a drink with. I asked her about the TopMan skinny blazers (online and instore they don't sell 32s but the size is displayed) and she sent people on the hunt for one in my size.

Wednesday – No luck in finding the blazer. "Will a 34 do?" Pray tell how a 34 will work when my size is a 32?! I DROWN in a 34! Anyways, I said I'd have a look around. Checked TopMan site and a new black skinny blazer has been put up (it is loverly!) Unlike the others it wasn't £65, but £100. Somebody somewhere hates me, though mum is apparently willing to move mountains for me to get what I need for this shindig. So I made some calls that night – couldn't get through to either of the Oxford Street TopShop stores (damn switchboards), but phoned the Selfridges Alterations & Repairs Department to see if I'd be able to get a blazer... altered... facepalm. They said to come in and see what they could do then and there, and that they have a TopMan department instore. Showered. Fell asleep on bathroom floor... insert 10:30am/pm confusion story here.

Thursday – Woke up with the sniffles... if someone's given me another cold I am going to go crazy. Made more calls; tried TopShop(s) again, no luck. Called Anna to let her know what was going on and that I'd let her know the outcome (I really do love that woman). Went into the city for 2pm and invaded Selfridges – found the last 34 in the new skinny blazer and they called someone from the alterations dept. down. The woman was a genius. She managed to get the blazer to fit just right, except the shoulders... but they're not huge... just about half a centimetre too big... which is workable. I can pick the bastard up anytime after the 14th. £147.50 later, sorted.

Now all I need is the rest of the outfit. It's going to look fantastic, dah-lings!

Wish me luck!

Warmest regards,
Fish x

. .THIS IS A NUCLEAR DAYDREAM. .
. .IT'S MY ATOMIC BOMB. .
. .THE DAYS WHEN I WOULD DIE FOR YOU ARE NOW GONE. .

Post 74: . .KILL ME AGAIN OR TAKE ME AS I AM. .

. .FOR I SHALL NOT CHANGE. .

Hello all! Never fear, I haven't abandoned blogger! I've just been a bit busy doing... not a whole lot, now I come to think of it. Here's a quick update though.

In the two months since my last post I have:

Gained a boyfriend, Adam, though we amicably parted a couple of days back. We're staying friends though. It was good while it lasted, but I think it'll be better how it is now. Less to worry about.

Did I mention I got a job? Well, I did. Working on the bar at the Royal Naval Association. I'm still there. It's great. People lovely, and work not too hard. Pay's alright too... as in, it's not much but they could be paying me less. AND I HAVE SWORDS IN MY BAR! RAH!

Started another course at college – Foundation in General Art & Design. Still at SEEC. Going well so far... mind you, it is only the beginning of the year. For once, I'm not going to jinx it saying I'm going to do the work and keep up etc. We'll just have to see how it goes. We made a giant cardboard owl in the first two days.

Going to the new Saatchi gallery October 8th, should be interesting. Modern Chinese Art exhibition or something. Sounds funky anyways.

Also, I've become shamelessly obsessed with Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Why he had to go and pop his clogs before I even got into him is beyond me. I'm jumping on the bandwagon for the theory that he's not really dead – he's actually playing a cruel joke on America. If that's not true however, then he is sorely missed, and will be for years to come. Also, as I am wont to do whenever I start reading fanfiction, I have found yet another impossible pairing to ship shamelessly - Joker/Rachel... or Jokachel for short. Also, I've started a new Jokerfic (like I'm ever going to finish my old ones!) and I'm illustrating it. Hop on over to fanfiction.net to read Remind Me to Smile.Obviously this obsession is nowhere near the scale of the one for La Haslam, which is still going strong by the way (839 pictures of him on my computer so far, and countless articles lying around my room).

Speaking of the one Nickaaaaay... I am seriously stuck for what to get him for his birthday, which is approaching rather quickly (Sept 27th). I've done CDs (various mixes), DVDs (De-lovely), portraits (NH), cartoons (King Nicky), books (Nicky the Jazz Cat), even coconuts (don't ask) in the past. Aside from some funky Clive's Cats coasters/bookmarks, which are a bit naff as a present – yes, he likes quirky funny little things... but really, coasters and bookmarks? I don't give a shit how funny they are, they still scream naffness. Although I do love the bouncy castle one. Maybe if I got him loads of them? A mountain of coasters?

Oooh, and I found this woman... Loulou... who lives in Toronto. She popped up on the Nicholas Haslam Myspace Group earlier in the month (which I am closing by the way, the only one from now on will be Nicholas Haslam's Darlings on Facebook). After seeing the humungous article on him in the September issue of Vanity Fair she... wants... his... babies.

...

You think I'm joking?

I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or amused. I'm not sure I agree. I'm not sure of anything about it. Though, through talking to her, she seems a lovely person... aaaaand has admitted I am way more hardcore for the stalking.

Oh yes.

Order is restored.

So yes, your Fish is still alive and rocking. She's feeling optimistic about the future (for once), and will be posting more often, with any luck. She's also just joined Twitter – search Fish_Inton.

Warmest regards to all,
F x

. .IT IS NOT EASY TO FIND ANYONE WHO CAPTIVATES ME. .
. .ANYONE DESERVING TIME MUST HAVE SOMEHOW PASSED ME BY. .
. .LOOKING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION. .

Post 73: . .STEAMPUNK. .

Steampunk is a subgenre of fantasy and speculative fiction that came into prominence in the 1980s and early 1990s. The term denotes works set in an era or world where steam power is still widely used—usually the 19th century, and often set in Victorian era England—but with prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy, such as fictional technological inventions like those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, or real technological developments like the computer occurring at an earlier date.

Because of the popularity of steampunk with people in the goth, punk, cyber and Industrial subcultures, there is a growing movement towards establishing steampunk or "Steam" as a culture and lifestyle. The most immediate form of steampunk subculture is the community of fans surrounding the genre. Others move beyond this, attempting to adopt a "steampunk" aesthetic through fashion, home decor and even music. This movement may also be (more accurately) described as "Neo-Victorianism", which is the amalgamation of Victorian aesthetic principles with modern sensibilities and technologies.

"Steampunk" fashion has no set guidelines, but tends to synthesize punk, goth and rivet styles as filtered through the Victorian era. This may include Mohawks and extensive piercings with corsets and tattered petticoats, Victorian suits with goggles and boots with large soles and buckles or straps, and the Lolita fashion and aristocrat styles. Some of what defines steampunk fashion has come from cyberpunk, and cyberlocks are used by some people adopting a steampunk look.

Easiest Steampunk-y thing to put together. Watch this space for more outfits... expect tophats, pocket watches and other schmexy things.

And I need these boots. Seriously.

Bought this watch for Adam... with a different chain. 'Tis rather schmexy.

All very exciting. Ooh, and here's a Steampunk-y video for you all:

Warmest regards,
Fish

. .I swear I saw them climb the stairs, that sweet master race. .

Post 72: . .A MYSTIFIED MIND WITH AN ANGEL FOR A GUIDE. .

It's been a while, my lovelies, and you'll be glad to hear that life's picked up... at last.

Well, mostly.

I might have failed this whole year at college due to my extreme slacking, but I can handle that. The time I've spent not doing work is time I've spent thinking, evaluating what I want for myself and I've come to a few conclusions, so in my eyes it's time well spent. I won't mention my conclusions here, they'll be mentioned later.

I've got yet another miniature obsession - The Marquis de Sade. So let this be a warning to you, there'll probably be a blog post on him soon too... which will be image laden and not for the prudish. Heh heh.

Not been to London lately... at all. Last month was there for a college trip to V & A which, as many of you know, is up near my neck of the woods. Went around all my old stalking haunts, passed You-Know-Who's flat (no, not Voldemort, you dolt!) aaaaaaand ended up texting him eventually... only to discover that he was off to Italy that day with his brother (whom he suggested I stalk... just because the man lives in Essex. ESSEX IS A BIG PLACE). Sod's law. Haven't seen the man since either just before or just after Christmas, and have completely given up on plans to go to dinner with him and Andy. Tempted to fake some terminal illness to get him to come along, but that would be bad bad taste. Though I've been promised a phonecall when he gets back from Spain, which I don't think I'll hold him to.

Saw Donna Thornton again, and her darling dog Romeo (who's getting a bit podgy now) - her business is booming and she's planning on opening another store soon... which is all very exciting. Will have to keep you all posted about that... if anyone's actually reading this, that is.

Now, I know it's two years off yet, but am already throwing together plans for my 21st. I intend to be out of the country for that birthday, mostly because my sister turns eighteen the same day... look out world! So I'm thinking Florence. I was also thinking Prague, but I think I'll hit that one by myself. So yes, Florence... with a few close friends, go out see some sights, shop around, relax and soak up the culture and the atmosphere. I'm thinking May, before the schools are off on half-term... but that's all to be decided later. Should be fun though.
There'll be more to say later... I'm sure.

Warmest regards,
Fish x

The coffee you poured me is cold,
the paper I'm reading is old,
and that smile is not your own...

Post 71: . .THE DEVIL HAS MY EAR TODAY. .

Feeling a bit down at the moment. Actually, more than a bit. The meds are making me feel more than naff, and I think I'm suffering creative block. Not good.

Apparently had a migraine the other day, according to my doctor. I went blind for around thirty seconds, saw flashing lights, couldn't stand up and felt sick. Very strange experience. Being paranoid I immediately started self diagnosing and came up with either a) a brain tumour, or b) low blood pressure. I've been getting chest pains too, but I sort of forgot to tell the doc about that.

College isn't going too well at the moment either. There's talk of me re-taking this year, and I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm not sure if art is the right path for me anymore, which begs the question "What is then?" The answer to that is "Nothing." I can't really do anything else but draw. I'm a bit of a one-trick pony. Can't paint, or anything else. And I don't think my drawing will get me that far. It's a tough situation at the moment and I'm off to see a councillor on monday about it, which bothers me even more as I can't stand councillors. But I suppose I'll have to give it a go.

I believe it is crunch time again. Let's hope I don't repeat what happened a couple of years ago, and drop out of education completely.

Warmest regards,
F x

Are you ever going to be quite satisfied?