Welcome Home Persephone (AKA as the one in which Emily continues to be a romantic nerd)


So, I think I’ve fallen in love with the Spring. It goes like this;

as the almost golden sun drips through the blossom trees, or drenches the sky and the fields in haze, I am lost in a place that my brain cannot perceive as real. Because to grow up, I had to teach myself that reality is never as bright as the world in my head. So, of course, I must be dreaming when I’m sat gazing out the window at the stretches of luminous fields that curve up to make hills that were obviously painted as concept art for the Shire. And so, because its a dream I don’t mind smiling like a huge dork, and singing out of key for everyone in the street to hear.

And even when it rains and the skies turn an overbearing grey, I don’t despair any more, because I know that it isn’t going to drain away my energy like vampiric January. There’s a warm hand on my back, reminding me this isn’t all there’s going to be, pushing me forward. So although I may not smile, I don’t bury my hope in a chest at the bottom of the sea. Just maybe under my bed.

So I’ll wear my prettiest dress, uncaring if I freeze to death.

And I’m praying that if I keep pretending it’s warmer than it is, the spring will always stay here, by my side. Which makes me realise that I don’t know what I’m going to do when the autumn strolls in and gives my joy a sleeping pill. I push the thought to the back of my mind, pull out my sunglasses from the obscure hole they were hiding in.

That’s the sum and total of it. Me and Demeter should start a support group. Imagine the t-shirts.

Thanks for taking the time to read my rambling thoughts. It’s all a bit like unravelled, tangled up wool at the moment, I’m just trying to tug on the right thread. Give me time, I’ll get it.

See you soon,




Aimless (AKA as the one in which Past Emily must be relied upon for content)


If this blog post feels a little aimless, then I suppose I have done my job – provided of course that my job is to accurately convey my emotions into a word-like structure.

It’s a weird time at the moment. I can’t put my finger on why, or whether it’s just me, but there is certainly something happening that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’m wading through exhaustion fuelled nonchalance, and I want to do is sleep and write poetry. (And yes, that probably is the most pretentious sentence I have ever conceived). I think it’s mostly due to my brain’s attempt to deal with the rising temperatures in the metaphorical cooking pot I’m boiling in. So to save you all from the weirdness, and mostly indecipherable train wreck that is my thought processes at the moment I thought I would share the first part of a story I’m writing. I wrote most of this in bunk-bed in a youth hostel pretending to be a hotel down in London. I hope you enjoy!

So I’m stood, gazing out the window in the student-film lighting, trying to estimate the social standing of each area of London from the aesthetic of it’s tube station.

Here are grim-faced, straight-laced, fine suited and booted folks. “We’re in a posh bit here”, I  think to myself with a smile I hope is wry.

Dirty wood and bare concrete, out-dated 80s decor. “Oh, a bit of a rougher patch here”

And I live for a moment in the buzz of my own insight, as for a passing minute I can pretend that I have knowledge of this strange world I have never been able to fully comprehend.

The underground is a strange place, you see it so often on TV and in films and god-knows where else that, even if you’ve never actually been on it, late at night when there’s only a handful of people in that warm yellow glow it’s like you’ve been there many times before. My headphones jammed in my ears, gentle music playing, and as my bones begin to warm for the first time in 5 hours, all I want to do is sleep. Only the over-hanging fear of missing my stop keeps me awake, so I sit, enjoying existing in this mellow setting for a brief juncture in my day.

When I step out into the street it is raining. It’s been raining all day, but I am still for some reason surprised. I pull my beanie hat further down over my ears, and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to hold onto my rapidly depleting warmth. The sun has just set, and it brings a whole different tone to the chill that’s now starting to set back under my skin. All I can think about is having a hot shower, but tonight there is other business to attend to.

Thank you for reading! I hope to resume usual blogging style soon, but I’m in London again next week so I’m not making any promises I’m afraid.

See you soon!




Fiction vs the Patriarchy (AKA Emily continues to be a dork, even on International Women’s Day)


Happy International Women’s Day!

I originally had a heartfelt ramble about my personal experiences with feminism written for today, but it was rather depressing and serious, and I believe today should be a celebration of women, not a time to dwell on how awful everything is. So I thought I would list some of my favourite (what I would consider feminist) creations that seem to be widely unknown by people. Please check them out and let me know what you think!

  • Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I know this may not be a particularly unknown one, as back in the nineties it was (according to my parents at least, I was still an infant and so do not recall) exceedingly popular. However these days I know very few people under the age of 30 who have watched it. Please do! This show defined how I view strong female characters from the age of 10 ( when i started watching it, I was probably too young – thanks dad for the nightmares) One of the best examples i know of demonstrating strong, powerful women who also are girly. Plus strong female friendships! A variety of different women who play principle roles! And vampires! All wrapped up in nineties fashion, what more could you want?

  • The Final Girls

This is a fantastic horror film that came out in 2015, about a group of friends who get tapped in an eighties horror film. This film knocks the Bechdel test out of the park, centres around the importance of a mother/daughter relationship, and also as Taissa Farmiga swinging around a machete. This is also a beautifully cheesy homage to eighties horror movies such as ‘Evil Dead’, ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ and ‘Friday 13th’. Absolutely awesome!!

  • Lumberjanes

If you like comic books and you haven’t read this, please go fix that immediately. Mysterious bear-ladies, three-eyed foxes, Greek gods, mermaids, and much more wierdness ensues at the ‘Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types’, the five Lumberjane scouts of Roanoke cabin are on the case! Beautiful artwork and hilarious stories, with predominantly female characters driving the project!

  • Giant Days

I adore Lumberjanes, but this is probably my favourite comic book of all time. A (mostly) realistic story about a group of friends at university, what makes this comic so fantastic and hilarious is how purely ordinary the characters are, in way you rarely see women depicted as in any kind of media. Also one of the funniest things I have ever read, if you want to start reading comics but don’t want superhero stuff, this is your best bet!

  • The Awesome

Buffy the Vampire Slayer with more sex and she can say f*ck. I don’t really have to say more that I hope. Also bloody hysterical, one of the best YA books currently being published!

I know this is a bit different from my usual style of post, but I think it’s really important that we celebrate the strong women in fiction, as they help make the women strong in real life!

Thank you for reading, and here’s to a future of strong women continuing to do amazing things!

See you soon,



The Author is Dead (AKA the one where Emily takes on CS Lewis from beyond the grave)


The impact a creator’s intent has on a project is undeniable. Whether it’s a book, a film, a painting or a podcast, it’s the creator’s intent that ultimately shapes it.

I recently had a day off, so whilst tackling the ominous mountain of ironing, I decided to re-watch the Chronicles of Narnia films. I only made it through the first two as I had other things to get done that day, but what surprised me was how much I enjoyed watching these films. Growing up, I adored the books of the Chronicles of Narnia. I got the whole set for my eighth birthday from a family friend, and I devoured them. My favourite was always The Magicians Nephew, as I lived in a terraced house just like the one Diggory and Polly played together in, and I spent years hoping a best friend would just move in next door, and then we would go on magical adventures together. I also loved the character of Jadis. She was one of the first female characters I had come across who was purely self-confident, and although this is obviously framed as a negative trait in the context of the books, I just thought she was really cool. (If you’ll pardon the pun).

However, as I got older, my bubble was broken. I don’t remember who first pointed it out to me, but once I realised the underlying religious tone of this series, I immediately distanced myself from them. They were no longer my favourite childhood books, and I plunged myself into Harry Potter instead. (Which is actually equally problematic in some aspects, but I’ll get to that another time). I went to go see the films when they came out, mostly because I’ll go and see pretty much any fantasy film, but I generally talked about Narnia with a hint of scorn amongst my social circles.

But when I re-watched the films this time around, I was just struck with how much I loved them, all cheesy fantasy tropes aside. I still love the characters, the plot, and honestly even some of the heavy handed moral lessons – such as the importance of not dismissing children, that making mistakes does not make you an intrinsically bad person, and that being kind is just as important as being brave. So honestly, I don’t care about the religious elements to this series! I acknowledge they exist, but they will no longer change the way I love Narnia!

I guess what I’m trying to say (in my usual hyperbolic manner) is that the intent of Lewis may have shaped these books, and perhaps are at the root of some of the themes, but at the end of the day, it’s what I took from these books that is really important. And I believe this can be applied to creative work in general. It’s what you personally take away that is what really matters, as art is the most subjective thing you can get.

Thanks for reading! Sorry I missed last week – it was a bit hectic so I didn’t get chance to upload anything. But regular programming has been restored, and (much like the Backstreet Boys) I am back!

See you soon,