Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

There's basically no such thing as summer in England. The weather is more indecisive than I am when faced with a variety of greek-inspired tapas (OM NOM NOM stuffedvineleavesandhomousandfalafel nom nom). I can't deal with all this grey-but-warm/sunny-but-breezy behaviour. Hot or cold, please. Having dealt with the sweatfest that comes from 35 degree temperatures in Venice, Prague and Berlin, I'd be happy with a little taste of winter right now. Of course, all this pondering (some might call it complaining, but I prefer pondering) got me considering my winter coat situation. Being ridiculously poor following my travelling trip, I have no chance of affording anything of any warmth-giving quality. But if I did...

Photos: jakandjill.com, streetpepper.com, stillinberlin.blogspot.com


Rainbow is my favourite colour

The beginning of a new school (or in this case, university) year always seems like an opportunity for complete reinvention. I always make countless promises to myself; I will work harder, I'll be tidy, I'll be organised. I never keep them.
So this year I'm going to forget the resolutions and focus on something I will actually bother to do. Living in a teeny tiny room in halls for the whole of last year, in October I'll be moving into a house with 8 of my friends. Needless to say I'm pretty freaking excited. Despite there only being one bathroom between nine of us (I'm shuddering just thinking about it), the house is gorgeous, with three floors and a cute little garden. I managed to land a pretty sizeable room on the second floor and plan to centre my attention on decorating it.

I've never been that into interiors before. But I'm really, REALLY looking forward to moving in in October and want to make my little room as homely as possible. I had a few plans...a grey duvet, bright accents. But then I saw this on http://www.theselby.com/:

This is the house of Gerald Decock, a hairdresser and visual artist from New York. I WANT TO LIVE HERE. I'm normally a black, grey, studs and zips kind of girl but, I'm completely infatuated with all of the bright colours. Screw muted undertones. I want my room to look like it's been attacked by a pretty unskilled-but-bright-paint-loving graffiti artist. I don't see how you could be upset in a room like that. All of the paintings, the lights, the photos would make me so so happy. And how incredible would it be to have a little hidey hole like Gerald?!


Berlin's calling...

I've spent the first four weeks of my long three and a half month summer interrailing around Europe with one of my best friends. We managed to visit a hectic 9 countries and 11 cities in what was undoubtedly the most exciting month of my life. Every place was different (in a good way), and i liked almost everywhere we visited. There was one place i fell full-on, head over heels, smack bang in LOVE with, though. Berlin was like no where I have ever been. Forget the lederhosen, frankfurters and redfaced men you might imagine (sorry for the stereotypes, I'd never been to Germany before). Berlin is a city full of crazy street art, quirky shops and a suprising amount of beach bars, given that it's no where near the sea.

Out of everywhere we visited in Berlin, the place I found most fascinating was the Tacheles. Given that we went to an old train depo that had been bombed during the war and has now been turned into a grafitti-filled skate park (amazingly cool), and a bar with a giant-sized frog that might or might not move if you put a euro in it's back (incredibly cool), it's definitely saying something that the Tacheles made such an impression. Situated in the district of Mitte, the old run-down building used to be SS headquarters. However, when the war was lost the place was flooded to get rid of nazi records. Left to decay, the building was eventually squatted, and has now become a centre for art and artists.

When you first enter the Tacheles and walk up the stairs, you're suprised that there could be anything organised in the place at all. The walls are covered in graffiti, and there is a distinct smell of, to put it politely, bodily functions. But on each floor there are artists' studios, covered in interesting prints and projects. The artists are completely happy for people to nosy around as they work, with some even putting up signs explaining their particular current projects.

Round the back of the building there were a collection of insane sculptures, artists' shops, and little bars. I think one of the reasons I loved the place so much was that it seemed to completely sum up the attitude of Berlin, which I loved even more. People really believe in things, and act on them. If they want to spray paint the walls, they spray paint the fricking walls. If they want somewhere to display their creative sides, they find an unused building and turn the whole thing into a crazily crammed, colourful centre of art and innovation.