"Do you wanna have a party? Do you wanna have some fun? Do you want to stick your hand in the sun? Or do you just wanna......"
Nectarine by Drugstore.
I've been psyching myself up for this day. It's very sad but true. I've been filled with this nervous energy, this strange creative buzz which is almost out-shouting the filthy cold that's rendered me some sort of weird cross between Gilbert the Alien and the first Lucy from Neighbours - known in my circles as adenoidal Lucy (as opposed to flat top Lucy (2) or trampy Lucy (3)).
I've picked today as the official launch of my blog. It seems quite entertaining that I'm making a big deal of this considering it's not exactly Ashley and Cheryl, hell it's not even Peter Andre shagging someone with creepy consequences (could there be any other kind of consequences to shagging Peter Andre? At best you'd get away with weird orange stains all over your sheets.) But it is a big deal for me. This is my way of standing up and screaming that I'm actually going to get on with some work. And for a work shy creature whose greatest joy in life is adding to my already Rain-manly encyclopaedic knowledge of neighbours with a cat on my lap (I don't care which one) and an inhumanly large cup o' tea, this scares the living shit out of me.
But this should do the trick shouldn't it? It's like the time that I got hammered on new years eve and told everyone I was going to run the marathon. I even phoned people in other places - on New Years Fucking Eve! Okay so I didn't run the marathon marathon, but I did the London 10 k and, as a consequence, can actually run now without wanting to die.
Anyway, I've picked today because it's the day of the Million Women Rise march in this fair city. Myself and a few of my nearest and dearest are going to be heading to Hyde Park to show solidarity to the women who have had their lives robbed by domestic violence. In the face of horrible figures, the continued deaths of women and children within their own homes and the prevailing, if hidden public attitude that somehow a domestic is a lesser incident of violence, women are going to be pouring into the streets to stand up and bring attention to the continued violence, rape culture and anti woman sentiment that prevails in some areas of society. Now if that doesn't sum up what I want to do with this blog (on a far more impressive scale of course - fighting hatred with sisterhood and solidarity), then I don't know what does.
So how, pray? Do I seek to do this. Well my darlings it is perfectly simple. Today Matthew I'm going to be wiping the slate clean and showing love to my fellow marchers in my own unique, mother earth, creepy feeder way.
We're going to be saying it with cookies.
Before anyone scathes openly I am aware that cookies will not end domestic violence, but as token gestures go I think that cookies spread love and help to counterract the stereo type prevalent in the tabloid press that feminists are cold, failures and (my favourite) "bad for your health". Plus as good cheap PR stunts go - it's not that bad. Basically for everything that's pissed me off about society in the past year I've baked a cookie, a delicious, lard-tastic chocolate chip cookie, and I'm going to give it to another person so that from all that hate, they can feel a little love.
A word about Alex, I think she's going to be featuring in this blog a fair amount, being my house mate, vague relative and an all round good egg. She's also the one with the talent in this relationship. Alex is essentially what Wonder woman would be like if she came from Felixstowe and was good a making stuff. She's a great housemate, she takes part in my strange plans, remembers to buy interesting flavours of squash and doesn't mind that I continually steal her face wash (or at least she didn't realise until now. Bugger).
So anyway, me and the Alex got to some crazy cookie baking yesterday.
Things we learned baking:
1. Cookies, like goldfish, or people reading The Telegraph on trains, expand to fill the space around them.
2. The sacrificial cookie is the most delicious by far, but it doesn't mean you have to eat the whole batch.
3. Too many cookies (or possibly one cookie) make you feel slightly nauseous (see above).
4. Rubber gloves are NOT oven gloves.
I'm going to repeat number 4 again - RUBBER GLOVES ARE NOT OVEN GLOVES.
Everyone clear with that?
So we're all baked up and good to go. Recipes below:
Choc chip cookies:
Take a big load of lard, mix with sugar, chuck in chocolate. Bake.
See above, add cornflakes to lard.
Eyes closed, nose pinched, sun shining, vague fear - it's time to launch this bastard! Wish me luck!