Tis the season to be jolly

Christmas has to be my absolute favourite time of the year, and what a Christmas I have had. I have been spoilt rotten by family, friends and the fella; new shoes, new clothes, perfume, toiletries, CDs, make up, books and even a do-it-yourself gingerbread house kit! I did a fair bit of spoiling of my own of course, and am thoroughly dreading heading to the bank next week to see the damage I have cruelly inflicted upon my account over the festive period.

With all the gifts and presents, new this and new that, its easy to get swept away in the commercial side of this national holiday and forget what Christmas is really meant to be about. And no, I'm not talking about it being the birth of Christ (or alternatively Santa's birthday, as I witnessed a little boy trying to convince his mother in the queue for the River Island sale the other day), I'm talking much closer to home than all that.

Personally, I see Christmas as the perfect excuse to spend time with all those you hold dear to you. I always spend my Christmas eve with my Mam and my sister. We pamper ourselves and have a takeaway (this year it was KFC, last year it was a Chinese - we like to be varied in our tastes). I have worked the last three Christmases, which probably sounds like hell on earth to most, but it means that I get to see all my friends from work and the local area, the money's good and I still make it home in time for Christmas dinner. The rest of the evening is spent with the family (just the four of us), parked in front of the TV watching whatever new DVDs have been bought and over indulging on good food and good wine. Pure bliss.

I spent Boxing Day with the boyfriend's family playing penny-bet card games (which I didn't really understand but seemed to be winning some how) and the day after he joined my family for a second Christmas day, full of more overindulgence and excessive film watching.

That to me is what Christmas is really meant to be about. Our family doesn't often get an opportunity to sit round the dinner table together and spend days on end in each others company, because we're usually too busy and important the rest of the year to make time for each other. After Christmas, however, I always feel highly contented, knowing just how lucky I am to have spent all that time with those I love. It makes you realise how good life is really, or at least that's my opinion.

This Christmas has been one of the best yet, and I can enter the new year safe in the knowledge that I really am surrounded by some incredible people. So, I would like to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year - I'll see you all in 2011.

A travesty of the Tabloids

As part of my Professional Journalism module, I have created this opinion piece which is focused around the issue of racial, religious and cultural tensions in British society. It stemmed from a blog post I wrote when I first started writing Twenty-one and Invincible, entitled "Proud to live in a multicultural society", and I have since progressed this original concept into a thousand word article which would be ideally suited for publication in a student based magazine such as "The National Student".

I hope you all enjoy the read, and please feel free to comment and give your own opinions on the matter.

As a 21-year-old student from Birmingham, I have grown up in a multi-cultural society and have always been surrounded by friends and family who understand the nature of the ever-changing British social climate.

So I was saddened to read in The Sun newspaper recently a some-what dubious account of a so-called racist attack by five 12-year-old Muslim boys on a British classmate. The article - headlined “Kids’ kill threat over troop praise” (17^th November 2010) – described an incident involving five young Muslim boys who had threatened to attack their British classmate with knuckledusters and knives over his apparent lack of support for – as The Sun put it – “Islamic extremists”, after he posted a tribute to the British troops who have died whilst fighting in Afghanistan on his Facebook page.

Now don’t get me wrong, this was shocking to read, and I truly felt for the poor lad who had been threatened for simply expressing an opinion. As a journalist in training, I see nothing wrong with publicising this horrific event, nor do I condemn that fact that The Sun has clearly identified the points of interest within this story (namely the issues of racial tensions within British society) and angled the story around these issues. What I do object to, however, is the great deal of scaremongering that goes into producing a story like this.

The Sun seems to thoroughly enjoys the use of the phrase “a Muslim Defence League which celebrates British deaths in Afghanistan”, seemly forgetting that we have our own form of extremist group in the form of the English Defence League. The way the article is structured and the frequent use of the word “Muslim” within this piece is clearly aimed at producing a damning example of all that the EDL are likely to hold dear to their hearts.

However, this kind of scaremongering by the tabloid newspapers in this country can do far more damage than they may actually realise, as shortly after this story broke, hundreds of people flooded onto Facebook to post comments on their outrage over the issue - with some even making various threats of their own.

The Sun newspaper also linked it’s readers to another story (11^th November 2010) about “Muslim violence”, which involved Muslim protesters in London burning a giant poppy during the minute silence on Remembrance Day earlier this year. This article has prompted not one, but three Facebook pages to spring up about the situation – with one posting a status claiming that Muslims have no respect and should be “sent back to their own f****** country”.

You see, there is a common misconception with the masses, who seem to believe that all Muslims are somehow connected to those small few who choose to exercise their religious frustrations and personal anguishes in an extremist, and often violent, fashion.

Adam Lines, 20, an English student at Birmingham University, is a member of the University of Birmingham Students Against Racism and is an active protester against all forms of discrimination. Adam was shocked to read the articles published by The Sun and fears for the upbringing of the children involved in these issues.

“As 12 year olds, I don’t really understand how they can fully understand the issues involved in the religious debate in this country – I certainly know I didn’t when I was their age. My worry is that they have been influenced by their parents into holding such extremist views without the maturity of mind to assess the issue on a more balanced field.”

Although Adam has a great respect for journalistic interpretation, he does question some writers’ ethics when it comes to the scaremongering which often surfaces in certain tabloid publications.

“They seem to pit one cultural group against another, instead of treating members of the British public as individuals. If the events of the story are due to racial or cultural boundaries, then it’s fair to cite that as the reason. But to adorn headlines with such phrases as ‘Muslim youth’ or ‘Asian mob’ seems to me an easy way to encourage the less-informed people on the issue to make quick assumptions without looking at the bigger picture.”

Adam believes the answer to a reduction in the racial tensions in British society lie in education on the subject. He believes there is very little open, educated and informed discussion around the issue and this is what causes racism and cultural discrimination to continue to be such a grave problem in the UK.

“The tabloid media need to take more responsibility: they are aware how influential they are, and yet they continue to publish examples of extremism to the point where their readerships only introduction to the issues is through the views of a minority.”

Nishat Rahman, also 20-years-old and an English student at Birmingham University, is a practicing Muslim who greatly disagrees with members of the Islamic community using violence to voice their opinions, and insists that this is not the way the religion teaches people to behave.

“By associating the violent and offensive act of ‘poppy-burning’ with ‘Muslims’, those who read this will then mentally associate violence with Muslims, or reinforce similar preconceptions they have. As a Muslim who has been brought up to never condone, or partake in such behaviour, I was deeply angered, offended and frustrated by how it was publicised but I am not at all surprised.”

Nishat talks of her personal experiences of racism, admitting that she has known of people she is friends with joining racist Facebook groups like those mentioned above, without seeming to understand what it is they are associating themselves with.

“There have been many occasions, entirely unprovoked, where I have been subjected to verbal abuse simply based on my skin colour and the assumption that I am, firstly, a Muslim, and secondly, that Muslims are ‘dangerous’ or a source of negativity in society.”

Nishat’s remedy to the difficult racial situation constantly being built upon by the tabloid press in Britain is to ask for them to correct themselves. Nishat understands that the press have a right to publish the facts, but insists that they should not need to add to the already strained issue by continually highlighting the race or religious beliefs of one particular group in British society.

“The tabloid press, clearly being a powerful influence on society, should feel they have a responsibility to report events more truthfully and objectively, instead of provoking reactions through presenting their version or opinions of the facts.”

The Woman Flu Pandemic

Forget Man Flu, I have Woman Flu and I can tell you now fellas, it is so much worse. Man Flu is where all you men get a slight tickle in your throat and a bit of a runny nose and hole yourselves up in bed for days, coughing and spluttering and generally feeling sorry for yourselves.

Woman Flu has had me properly man down all weekend. I woke up Sunday morning and felt like I'd left all of my faculties in bed. I was walking round with that kind of strange out-of-body feeling all day, like I wasn't even really human. And the little trooper that I am, I still went and sat at the computer doing my work.

By about 3 in the afternoon, I was sweating like I was in the desert and shivering like an icicle all at the same time. I had it all: headache, toothache, earache, faceache, backache, kneeache, littletoeache - it was ridiculous. I'd lost my voice (much to the pleasure of my long-suffering family) and to top it all off I was shaking like a drug addict. I mean seriously, if Shakin' Stevens and Ozzy Osborne had a love child, I'd have put him to shame.

So I ended up totally bed-ridden for the majority of Sunday. But this fellas, is where our genders become clearly defined, as the next day - although far from perky - I was up at 7am and getting on with my work. And here I sit today, as well, typing away before I head off to work all day. Woman Flu is far far worse than Man Flu, but us women folk, we just power right on through.

So this Christmas ladies, watch out for your other half/father/brother/boss/next door neighbour pulling that familiar expression when they feel the first signs of a cold coming on. You know, the one similar to what I'd imagine a kitten with it's tail trapped in a door would look like: properly wounded. And when you see it coming, just smile and remember this is why the women have the babies.

"Man Flu. Woman Flu's wimpy and feeble little brother."

He won the war

I have some good news which I would like to share with you all. You may have read my post about my trip away with the other half recently, entitled "Four days in a frosty haven", in which I told you all about his current health problems and my thoughts around the matter.

Well, you will all be very pleased to know that my Man has been given the all clear this week. He has been deemed as having a full response to treatment, which basically means what it says, in that the chemotherapy has essentially worked the best that it can and he is now on the road to recovery.

He has to take a bit more time off work, and then ease himself back into it all slowly, so as not to hinder his recovery at all - but things are finally looking up for us, the haphazard couple that we are!

As you can imagine, I'm thrilled. This has been one of the longest, hardest years of my existence so far, and as I was saying to my Fella just yesterday, I really needed some good news to come along and perk me up a bit.

I'm not depressed or anything, in fact I think I've coped quite well with everything that life has thrown at me this year, but having fought to regain control of my life after losing somebody very close to me earlier this year - and then having to put so much energy into staying strong and supportive for my other half after finding out he was ill just a few months later- I'm really not sure how much fight I've got left in me.

The new year should be a new start for me, but unfortunately all it is likely to bring is more heartache as the anniversary of the death of the great man I lost will be heading our way soon enough, and all of the pain and grief I suffered not so long ago will no doubt come flooding back again - and I'm just going to have to deal with it, some how.

I'm not writing this for sympathy, as those who know me well will tell you I don't want a big fuss over it all. I've always like to deal with things on my own, and I kind of see it as a sign of weakness in myself if I'm not rock-solid and strong throughout my misfortunes. But what it does make realise, is that it doesn't get any easier for those who have lost someone they love.

All of us will know someone who has suffered some form of heartache or loss unfortunately. It's not a great fact to acknowledge, but that is just they way life is and we have no choice but to accept it. My mother lost her mother just a few months back, and my nan lost her husband a few years before that, and yet even I have been guilty of forgetting that every year they will once again mourn the loss of their someone special.

So now that this situation will soon be upon me once again, it has made me think about all those others I know who will also find a point each year in which the memories of the life they once had will be all too close to home again - and this year I intend to be much more supportive of this fact, and help them see all the things they have got to be grateful for instead.

Time is a healer, of that I have no doubt, but time will never allow you to forget what you may have lost. I, however, would just like to think of it in a different way. Yes, I have lost so much this year, and that fact will never leave me - but for all that I have lost, I seemed to have gained so much as well. I am stronger than I have ever been because of this year. I am older and wiser, and more capable of dealing with the pitfalls in life. And most importantly, I have surrounded myself will the most wonderful people you could ever wish to have in your life - and for that I know I am so blessed.

My Man getting better and beating what could have defeated him is just the start of the beginning for me. New year, new hope, and hopefully new me. Although I will never forget who I have lost this year, I have so much more to gain in my life...and that surely has to be worth living for. If I'm twenty-one and invincible now, imagine how far I will have come when I'm thirty-one and indestructible?

Old head, young body

At the young age of twenty-one, I have begun to realise how much I enjoy the company of the older generations in this world, especially considering that I could be classed as a somewhat frivolous and and naive young woman. Interested in reality television, shopping, gossiping, partying and often guilty of listening to trashy modern-day pop music, I most certainly don't sound, on paper, like I would have anything worth saying to anyone over the age of 25. Somehow, though, that doesn't seem to be the case.

My mam and nan had a discussion yesterday in which they commented on what an "old head" I have on my shoulders...something my mother believes I get from her. And the more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to agree.

I only have a handful of friends who are actually my own age - my best friends Addy and Ray, and The Women Folk. The rest of the people I find myself socialising with on a regular basis are often old enough to have raised me as their own!

Last night (4/12/10), like many I have had since I turned the grand age of 18, was spent in my gaff - The Pepper Mill public house in Coleshill - where I spent the evening talking and laughing with all manner of different characters, from all different walks of life - most of which were 40+ and a few could even have been grandparents to me.

The reason I'm presenting you with all this, is because it dawned on me last night just how much I love having older friends, and how much I thoroughly enjoy spending my time in the company of people who have lived a real life and who have something worthwhile to say for themselves.

I meet people around my age and often find I can't quite click with them. Many seem to believe they have done it all already - they think they know everything there is to know, but when you talk to them you find out they know very little worth knowing.

Worse still is the mentality some young ones have when they're out and about, on the town, where their only focus seems to be getting blind drunk, getting it on with whatever is standing closest to them and getting themselves into enough trouble to make the night worth mentioning the next day.

You don't get any of that with the people I spend my Saturday night's with. They are all up for a laugh and can most certainly put the beer away, but most just go out with a different mindset. They are looking for laughs and good times, just without all the hassle and silliness.

Don't get me wrong, I don't believe that all people my own age are like that, but I can say with confidence that many of you will have come across young adults like this on your travels many a time. So I guess my point in all this is that I'm glad not to be one of them.

For me, personally, it's so refreshing to meet someone who I can have a really good, in-depth and interesting conversation with - someone who has life stories that will put my meager offerings to shame and someone who has actually lived their life to the fullest. And I think many of my older friends would second this - it must be so nice for the older generations to meet an interesting, educated and well-spoken twenty-something, as I honestly believe it could restore their faith in the "youth of today".

So I'm starting a little campaign. I'd like all who read this to go and have a proper conversation with someone they know who is years ahead of them (in age and experience), and just listen to what they have to say. Seek their advice, enjoy their company, and you might just find that you in turn will have a bit more to say for yourself. It's just a thought, but one that I think is worthwhile considering.

Coleshill: Birmingham's very own ski resort

The great British freeze has returned to Birmingham this week and is doing its absolute best to foil my plans to do anything more than sit at home, whinging about the snow.

During it's four week rein in January of last year, I was forced by my Firefighter father to keep out of my car and stay in the house as he worries about my tiny self being out on the road in these hazardous conditions. Thankfully, he has not banned me from my car this time around, but I was left with dire warnings ringing in my ears as I headed out to partake in some Christmas shopping with Sprog today.

As a firefighter, he seems to do nothing but cut poor souls out of car wrecks during these icy times - and this is possibly what makes him so adamant that his daughter will not be his next call out. I'm completely aware that I am not going to die in a horrific crash merely because there are a few millimetres of snow on the ground, but Mien Papa is slightly tainted by his experiences with the cold weather and won't budge an inch.

Much like my poor car Betsy, as it happens. She's a sweet little thing, but she most certainly isn't a fan of the snow, and didn't half put up a fight when I tried to drive her up the slight incline to my drive earlier. Wheels squealing, Betsy slipped and swerved all over the place as I fought to regain control of her - the three of us very nearly ended up in the hedge!

And it's not just Betsy who's having trouble getting a grip in this weather...yours truly very nearly had a

nasty (but rather comical) fall on my way to the hairdressers this morning. My hairdressers is at the bottom of one of the steepest hills in Coleshill, and on my way down I almost ended up sledging there on

my behind!

You see, I - like many others I am sure - was under the silly impression that my army boots would be a rather sensible form of footwear for this weather. Wrong. Very wrong. The bloody things have absolutely no grip. In fact, they may as well have wheels on for all the good they do! I took three steps down the hill and ended up doing that silly arms out, feet-treading-water dance you do as you desperately try to regain your balance. It worked, thankfully, and I managed not to end up face down in a pile of grey slush - just.

So this is my plea to the winter weather:

Dear Snow,

We love you. You are beautiful to watch, you make everything in our world look so much nicer, and without you Christmas just wouldn't be the same.

But if you could just try not to be so damn slippy, it would be greatly appreciated. That is all.

Yours sincerely,

Your latest victim xx

A blast from my musical past

Having just listened to this incredible woman on my way home, I thought I'd tap out a little ode to one of my all time style icons.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgL7-hFAdoI

That's right, it is the queen of pop Madonna, and this powerful lady has been a consistent feature in my life since the day it started. My mother used to play her albums to me in the womb. I swear, I actually came out all gooed up and singing "Lucky Star"!

I'm more than happy to admit that I often take to the stage on karaoke nights, and belt out the good old "Like A Prayer". Not well, I might add, but somehow it always goes down a storm - and my best friend Ray has been known to join me in an even more eccentric version of "Like A Virgin". This is always even worse than the previous, if I'm honest - but seeing two, happy-through-the-wine ladies up on stage, giggling their way through that song never fails to entertain.

I have adored nearly every record she has ever released, and have always admired her fantastic attire - especially in her younger years. Whilst I accept that the leotard-wearing Madonna of 2005 was not necessarily a triumph, her Vogue phase was a total hit and I would like to meet a girl these days who doesn't wish she could wear an all-in-one, lace body suit, whilst pulling off a white-blonde perm. And let's face it, at one point we have all dreamed of waltzing into our local bar in THAT cone-shaped bra and declaring : "What, this old thing? Well thank you, it's just something I threw on."

Permed hair, gap-toothed smile and a beauty spot. On paper, it sounds like something out of a horror movie, but the reality for Madonna is that she is so damn beautiful with it. So beautiful, in fact, that I even have a dress with her in her vogue pose splashed across the front of it.

Yes, it was a shame when she got all veiny and hyper-religious, but she will - forever more - be remembered in my mind as the only woman in history who can make frizzy hair, lace gloves and a string vest sexy.

Legal but under suspicion?

Picture this: It's a quiet Saturday night in my hometown of Coleshill. My best friend Ray has just driven me (for the first time) to Sutton for a scrummy meal, and we have retired home to a local pub to wile the last few hours of the night away, in a happy, friendly place.

Glass of wine in hand, me and my Boo chat away, when suddenly the door bangs open and a fierce looking police officer marches in and demands to see our IDs. He is ruthless; studying our driving licences as though I had just told him I was 85 and President of Geneva. Then he proceeds to scrutinise every aspect of our being - our hair colour, eye colour, height, chosen attire for the evening, and even enquires about my tattoo. And the whole time this farce is going on, the entire pub watches with bated breath. Atrocious, mortifying, simply humiliating...

Ok, so maybe it didn't happen exactly like that. The cop was actually only a few inches taller than me, and was more than friendly when asking about our ages, but still, you get the point.

I will say this again as I said it last night (27/11/10) : I have no problem being asked to prove my age. Hell, I'm not stupid, I'm aware I look 15 on a good day, and - having worked in the pub trade since I was 16 - I'm also aware that plenty of youngsters look far older than they actually are these days. I'd ID myself if I didn't know any better! But what I do object to is having my details taken - and in great detail at that - in front of a pub full of my friends and colleges, when I have already proved that I am twenty-one.

It really was a tad embarrassing, and everybody was looking and laughing - I genuinely did feel as though I was doing something wrong, and it certainly looked that way to everybody else. Silly as it sounds, I was a bit miffed at being treated like a criminal when I am legal to drink and have been for the last three years.

And what exactly does he need my details for anyway? Oh, why yes, they're going to go into a big database and will be stored for the rest of my life. God forbid that I should get a bit crazy in the January sales, and elbow a fellow shopper trying to reach for the last size 8 River Island dress that's down from £40 to £3. "Yes officer, it was her. Has she got purple hair and an anchor tattoo on her wrist? Yes then it's definately her." Two taps of a keyboard and I'll be sent down for assault!

I don't think the whole charade went down too well with the locals either. There was lots of overly-loud conversations about "Haven't the police got anything better to be doing on a Saturday night other than bothering two nice little girls?" and "Why aren't they out catching the real criminals?". One member of the pub club even threw a bag of pork scratchings at the officer in question and was hauled outside for being drunk and disorderly or something of the like!

I say, who would have thought a sleepy town like ours could be at the centre of such a dramatic police raid? And with little old me at the heart of all the drama? Oh, what an anecdote ay!

Four days in a frosty haven

Today is my first day back in the working world after a truly wonderful four-day trip to Gloucestershire with my other half, and I have to say, it's just as cold back here in Brum but not half a peaceful.

Me and the Mr whisked ourselves away to the beautiful Sherborne House, a stately home in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling hills, stunning water features and breathtaking landscape gardens. It has it's own tennis courts, mini gym, games room, sauna and swimming pool on site - as well as an unconventional orangery and rose gardens to peruse.

Our little house was decked with bespoke antique furniture and more country-themed rugs than you could shake a stick at! The whole site was enthralling, and I can honestly say it was like locking yourself away in a completely forgotten world of regency, grandeur and horticulture.

Ten minutes away lies the sweet little village of Bourton-on-the-Water; the so-called Venice of Britain. The whole town is built around the river which runs throughout it, and has more tea rooms, country pubs and trinket shops than you can envision. Me and the Man indulged in all of the above, as well as The Dragonfly maze and the Model Village. Both were brilliant, and the maze was some of the most fun I've had in ages. I don't mind admitting that I was like a little kid in there; running round like a nutter, trying to find the clues to unlock the secret of the maze! And the boyfriend humoured me, bless him!

We journeyed to Cheltenham for lunch the one day, and spent the following day wandering the grounds of the delightful Sherborne House. The whole experience was bliss - a really romantic getaway for us both.

Many would be fooled into thinking that this was just a fleeting trip away; an impromptu voyage of self-indulgence? You would only be half right. This trip was about far more then just a romantic break for me and the Fella, and I'm just about to tell you why.

As those who know me will already know, me and my other half don't have the most

conventional of relationships, and unfortunately it is through no fault of our own. You see, my Mr is a poorly boy, as not long after we met earlier this year, he discovered he had Hodgkin's Lymphoma - a form of cancer which originates from the white blood cells in the body and spreads throughout the lymph nodes (in the neck and under the arm). He has spent the last five months being treated with Chemotherapy, and he is now currently waiting for a scan to determine the success of the treatment so far and what should be done next.

At the prime age of 23, this was more than just a shock for him and his family - and me, if I'm completely honest. It was not helped, in my mind, by the tragedy I had suffered shortly before meeting my Man. I had lost somebody very close to me, suddenly and seemingly without explanation, and after finding out about the boyfriend's illness, I nicknamed myself The Black Widow.

I felt I was cursed, and I will be honest enough to say that shortly after he called to tell me the news, I phoned my best friend Ray and told her that it was all my fault. I genuinely believed for those few short hours that I was the reason he was ill. I had already lost one great man, and now I was going to cause even more harm to another undeserving being. Ray set me straight of course, and her words made me realise that this wasn't about me any more - from here on out it was all about him.

Now, nearly six months down the line, it's been a rough ride, but one I'll never regret. As you can imagine though, he really did need this break! My Fella is the strongest, most focused and rational person I have ever had the good fortune to meet, and I can only hope he knows how privileged I feel to be the person he has chosen to be with him during all of this.

Let's face it, this isn't the best of times for him to be working on a blossoming relationship, but my other half always makes a massive effort with me. When he is well enough, we go for dinner, we go to the movies, we go for walks and now we've even gone on a little trip. He doesn't sit around feeling sorry for himself, being spoon fed and reaping in the sympathy - he buckles up and gets on with life.

So this, I guess, is my little tribute to him and all that he is. Being with him makes you realise what real tragedy is. Tragedy is not falling out with your boyfriend over what to watch on TV, or being bitched about at work. Tragedy is watching somebody who is such a genuinely good and wholesome human being suffer over something which is out of their control. So for all those out there who make a huge deal out of the slightest little knock in life, I genuinely hope they can appreciate our situation.

Everyone likes to have a good whine once in a while - I certainly do! But my life has been completely put into perspective over this past year, and I hope that in reading this, I might just help a few others to find a bit more perspective in their lives. So ask yourself, in the grand scheme of things, is it really all that bad?

A Cindy Doll Massacre

I am sat here on a Sunday night, frantically trying to find inspiration for tomorrow's Visual Design Studio. You see, I made the very grave mistake of taking on the role of Web Designer in the group and am now beginning to regret it.

Without blowing my own horn, I have quite a good sense of what looks good when it comes to page layouts in a magazine. I'm not bad with the typography, I can use the software well

and I'm a dab hand when it comes to structuring columns and manipulating images to make rather spiffing page furniture.

Websites, however, are nothing like an A4 magazine page, and boy don't I know it now! I spent three hours in last week's class mocking up two basic webpages for our group project - only to be told rather bluntly by my egotistical lecturer that they looked "too simplistic", "infantile" and "like somebody had just sat at home sticking things randomly in the space". So I was not best pleased, as you can imagine.

I'm trying to design a retro - maybe even kitch - inspired website for our fake fashion event entitled "The Indie Cindy Show", but so far all I've managed to do is mutilate some Cindy dolls and plonk random Photoshoped images on a page.

What I'd really like to do is pull something out of the bag that wipes that smug, "I walked out of uni and set up my own highly successful, well-paying design business" smile, right off my tutor's face. So please, if anyone can throw some ideas my way it would be much appreciated?

Speak no evil

I spend my Friday mornings studying Media Law, which I have no doubt will become very handy after I graduate, and my knowledge of it will hopefully stop me being sued into bankruptcy.

It is surprising to realise just how little you can actually publish compared to the graphic details you may hear with relation to some cases. After four hours spent at Birmingham Crown Court a few weeks ago, I had heard plenty of the nitty gritty on the following case, and yet this was what I was legally allowed to publish:

Three in mentally handicapped rape charge

Three Birmingham men have been accused of raping a mentally handicapped woman from their local area, the courts heard yesterday.

Friends James Lee Reilly, Lee Daniel Holder and Lee Wayne Princep – appearing at Birmingham Crown Court - face individual charges of rape and sexual assault after meeting the woman at the Royal George pub in Birmingham earlier this year and heading back to her flat around 2am on the night in question to continue drinking.

The woman – who has been described as having a mental age of thirteen-year-old - has alleged that she asked the defendants to leave after a few hours but they refused, after which they proceeded to lock her in her bedroom while they stole her television.

The woman also claims that the three men exposed themselves to her, and that Mr Holder had her trapped in her bedroom whilst he lay on top of her and pressed his groin against her. She is claiming numerous rape and sexual assault charges against Reilly, Holder and Princep – one alleged assault is said to involve the use of a toilet roll holder.

The defendants admit to being at the woman’s flat on the night in question and claim that there were sexual activities taking place that night, but insist that the woman encouraged them to expose themselves to her and allege that she took each one of them into her bedroom to perform sex acts on them.

The woman strongly denies this and alleges that all of the sexual acts said to have happened that night were non-consensual. The case continues tomorrow.

Under the restrictions of media law:

• I could not name the claimant as she was an alleged victim of sexual assault.
• I could not report on any previous convictions against either the claimant or the defendants that were not discussed in front of the jury.
• I could not report on the claimant's previous sexual history under Section 41, as it was not strictly relevant to the current case.

It is difficult as a rookie journo to know where to draw the line with what could be considered the best or "juiciest" details of the case. I think I have a good understanding of what is legal and what isn't, and they do make that quite clear. But some areas are very much grey areas, and if you choose not to include certain gritty details you can sometimes lose the whole angle of the story.

This story is hardly front page material, but there are certain details within it which I believe make it more interesting and give it an air of the somewhat unusual - which is why I have chosen to include the particular details which others may not.

I guess the learning curve for me will not be the black and white legalities, but the grey areas which can sometimes separate the mundane from the extraordinary. The question is, how far do you push it?

The Women Folk

I would like to introduce you to my kindred spirits whom I call my Women Folk. Ever since I was young I have always had more male friends than female friends, as I will happily admit that us women can sometimes be quite difficult to handle - and men (generally) spend less time bitching and fighting and more time having a laugh and enjoying themselves.

From left to right in the above picture you have The Hood, Jessicat, Clare-bear, Eccabell and Claireibell. We all attend the same uni, four of us study journalism, one studies PR and one studies art. We all share similar interests and pastimes, and yet not a single one of us is anything like another, which is what I believe makes us such a great group. There have been fallings out, there have been ups and downs, but after two and a half years together we still have a great time together regardless of anything else.

For years I have craved the male mentality in my life, but after meeting my beautiful Women Folk during my first year at university, I can honestly say I've never been happier and more at ease in a group of friends. They have made my uni years what they are, and I couldn't very well sit here telling you all about my life as a haphazard twenty-something without bringing these colourful characters into the limelight. These ladies will be featuring in a great deal of the posts on here, of that I have no doubt.

As I currently demonstrating in my choice of imagery for this post, we have numerous shared interests: mainly dressing up, dancing and drinking. Since our time at uni, we have partied across the scene in Birmingham, and donned no less than 8 different costumes in the process. We have been UV ravers, St. Trinians school girls, Greek goddesses, Australian lifeguards, Rocky Horror Show tarts, Geeks, Golfers and, after last night (15/11/10), NYPD officers - and that's not including our Halloween party attire!

We have shared birthdays, end of year parties and we even took a long-over-due girls only holiday in September of this year. We have gone through bust-ups, break-ups, rekindled romances, heartache, disappointments, celebrations and all other manner of situations - which have all become firm memories imprinted in my mind.

I know when I am old and grey, I can look back on my Uni years and think "Wow. I did all that with these great girls. How lucky was I?". So I would like to thank my lovely Women Folk for giving me some of the best years of my life. You are all part of why I feel so lucky to be Twenty-one and Invincible.