Day 2 - Tenerife

This morning we lay in until 10:30am (we've both vowed not to get up early this holiday) and each helped ourself to a bowl of choco-snaps, although we have no bowls to eat them from. Other than a fruit bowl.

We were out by 11:30 and on the windy mountain road to Masca. With Kamal at the wheel again I was left to shut my eyes and pray for survival - some of the locals do enjoy hanging out on our side of the road!

Stress over we arrived at the village. And what a view!

We walked down to the village and used the toilet before deciding it would be a fantastic idea to hike down the mountain!

We asked a spritely looking man how far it was to the coast and he told us 1hr, maybe 2 if you're slow. We laughed, 'That's alright' we agreed. So we began a descent masked by complete beauty. We were also constantly followed by beautiful red dragonflies!

2hrs later, we decided never to trust the first man up the mountain! In scorching heat (thankfully this time I was applying sun-cream like it was oxygen), having bruised our feet and ruined our knees jumping from rock to rock downhill we met another couple who told us it was at least another hour to the coast. We were going to turn back when a 40yr old looking local told us it wasn't so bad. 'Yeh, you're right,'. 'There's a boat at the bottom' he told us - so on we went!

And on, 

and on, and on, and I nearly cried at least twice and I slipped on a rock and grazed my leg and arm. But finally, with just that bowl of chocosnaps in our belly and a quarter of a bottle of Ribena between us, we reached the sea and scraped together 20 euros for a boat back to Los Gigantes. It felt like that moment in Robin Hood Pronce of Thieves when he eats the sand - I have never been that happy to reach the bottom of a hill! We then had exactly 2 euros left to buy water - and water has never tasted so good!!!

We struggled a further 5mins for a quick swim too! I had no bikini but no-one else seemed to care, so we both stripped down to our underwear and jumped in to ride the waves with the rest of them!

The waves got strong pretty quick so I got out, knowing full well I had no strength to swim! We made it to our boat (no not the ones in the picture) and set out across the crystal clear seas!

We arrived in Los Gigantes smelling as though we had only ever bathed in our own sweat, so headed to our hotel to shower, change and eat some well-deserves pasta! Our floor is now covered in wet clothes!

Then we had a car to salvage from a car park on top of Masca mountain, so paid 23euros to get a taxi back to it! We were met with a surprise when we got there. The couple we had met a few times on the way down the mountain, who looked to be struggling as much as we were, had spent the three hours we had spent get in back to our car, walking back up! Hats off to them, I would never have made it!

We then picked up the car and powered on to Garachico, a beautiful little town I absolutely fell in love with. We admired the coastal views and crystal clear rock pools with tropical fish swimming along sweetly together. 

We then walked around the town for a while, picking out the historical sights and and the church. Oh and I can't forget he moment I became the mother of dragons! 

Apparently it's Canarian tradition to build things like this from wood for celebrations and then burn them down. So annually they build another crazy project, like this one!

With the sun setting, we sat by the sea-front and dined at a lovely restaurant, Canada de Garachico, where I tried my first ever banana omelette - it is AMAZING! Followed by sautéed potatoes, chorizo, bacon and fried egg. Kamal had veal steak (basically alive) but it was again - delicious, and the staff were very friendly and even helped to give us the confidence to drive back up the mountain in the dark. We'd definitely recommend it!

A quick pic at the seafront and then onwards and upwards - very literally - towards home! 

An hour later, it's midnight and we're back and ready for bed. My god, there'll be a lot of bruises when we wake up tomorrow! Our feet might not even function! 

Day 1 - Tenerife

So it's another trip for Kamal and I, this time to Tenerife.

We've been awake for two days straight now as I write this and getting here wasn't quite as easy as we'd hoped. We had both convinced ourselves that our bus to Gatwick left London Victoria at 3:30, turns out it was 2:30 and we missed it. After begging with the driver we got on the 3:30 bus, pulling into gatwick south at 4:50, leaving us 30mins til our gate closed. We flew through check in and security though and in fifteen mins we'd made it to our gate in record time. Thank god! 

After a 4hr flight on a small aircraft I thought everyone would be in a bad mood but actually, I've never been on a nicer flight, with everyone in the holiday spirit long before landing - well apart from the boy in front who seemed to speak to the flight attendants with one word and one word only - BEER - those dulcet tones must do a lot for our reputation abroad!

We picked up our car from the airport and after a few hair-raising moments centimetres too close to the edge of the narrow Tarmac, we made it to our apartment! And we love it. We have our own balcony, living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom and access to lots of fun stuff at the resort too.

After dropping our bags we trekked along the seafront jumping across the rocks up and down cliffs and a tiny yappy dog that clearly thought he owned the place. We conquered the final slope to find my first ever black sand beach! I saw a nest of tiny baby pigeons, some creepy black crabs and some adorable little lizards! Like these:

I could steal them!

After burying each other in the black sand...

(of course we only have a white beach towel - brilliant) and happily drowning in the cool and powerful waters, we headed to the roof terrace at the hotel to drink beer and take in the views.

Then it was across town to a recommended local tapas bar where we had potato salad, fried chicken and goats meat (yeh I'm not a fan of that one). Amazingly we had three massive courses and two beers and it cost us only 25€.

Most undesirable experience of the trip so far was the accidental discovery of the public toilets - I won't say much but if you don't like cockroaches, don't even think about it! Needless to say I held it in!

To work off the dinner, we played a couple of games of pool, watched the football and now 27hrs after we should have gone to bed, we are! 

Don't Smoke In Bed

finboroughtheatre.co.uk

The Finborough Theatre is a fair distance from our flat and after mustering the courage to travel into the cold, I had no idea what to expect from its new offering and world premiere of, 'Don't Smoke In Bed'.

uktheatre.net

What awaited us, was a play that represented the very conversations my partner and I have found ourselves discussing. We, like the couple in the piece, are a interracial couple, not that that alone stands to define us or our relationship. What 'Don't Smoke In Bed' managed to do, was to very quickly draw us away from taboo arguments and instead ignite fresh debate both on and off the stage.

Whether it was Sheryl (Clare Latham) worrying about the wealth of black hair products she would never understand (which I 100% identify with), or Richard (Greg Lockett) exclaiming that he cannot control his Jamaican parents nor have to reason on their behalf, Don't Smoke In Bed's 2 hour duration was filled to the brim with a domestic conflict that overflowed into the intimate stalls seats.

finboroughtheatre.co.uk

I'll be first to admit that many of the issues that came up in the piece are things my partner and I have spoken about. Firstly, that society will always categorize mixed race individuals as black, that most will define themselves as black, even if parts of their heritage may not be. Secondly, that there is always going to be a slight clash of culture, regardless of how easy-going and adaptive each family is. They will both have different ways of doing things, different traditions and any relationship must be built on this knowledge and built to either include both traditions, or make new ones.

finboroughtheatre.co.uk

The piece grew in my estimations further in the second half, when writer, Aurin Squire challenges the 'white way of thinking'. Our female character Sheryl argues with her husband Richard about his parents and in her anger asks him what their problem is. 'Why did they not come and see their grandchild?'... 'would it hurt to pick up the phone' ... 'Why don't they like me, are they afraid that you married above your class?' - yeh she said it. It is rightfully crushing to hear him clarify to her that actually, his parents had higher hopes for who he would marry in the US and were in fact, afraid of him marrying down.

White supremacy has no place in this piece hurling a gust of glorious fresh air towards traditional white British theatre audiences.

finboroughtheatre.co.uk

It did have it's moments of cringe-worthy dialogue (& Jamaican accents), filled to the brim with word games and childhood rhymes where I failed to always understand the connotations but something had to ground this piece that constantly punched above our expectations. It throws weight at traditional two-handers. It challenges misconceptions and stereotypes around race and gender. It also asks whether our obsession with acceptance from a hungry, media-driven society is healthy and it asks us to leave all pre-judgements at the door or be faced with our own flaws. I won't say much about the plot, but if you like debate, conversation and a script that holds its own - then definitely make sure to book a ticket on its return!

Aurin Squire is a writer to keep your eye on!

The Privatisation of Channel 4

Television has been the backbone of British culture right from the UK's first public service broadcast in 1932. It’s connected us with others worldwide and now, with privatisation on the agenda, its unique position and reputation is under threat. Channel 4 is at risk of being hijacked.

The biggest challenge is that C4’s remit of taking risks, will now be at risk. Although Lord Burns is preparing proposals to allow C4 to continue providing distinctive and diverse public service programming, I’m not convinced. The challenge in becoming private, is that C4 is less likely to take risks, in order to secure financial gain for private investors. This will only ever come at the expense of new talent, as recruiting reputable programme makers will take precedence over younger, less experienced talent, in the quest for greater financial return. Say goodbye to talent schemes and diversity then – isn’t that what C4’s all about?

centennials - standard.co.uk

Perhaps there’s an opportunity here then. With a £1billion pound sale, C4 could devote funds to the talent schemes that privatisation threatens. The future and quality of Channel 4 programming and television in general, depends upon the social representation of its workforce. We cannot freeze out talent, by jeopardising internships, talent schemes and opportunities, on and off-screen, for those who may otherwise never get the chance.

It seems Channel 4 is in danger of losing its identity, damaging the culture it stands a part of. In the current social climate, where we at the bottom are already feeling neglected, it’s an insult to sell the TV channel we believe in, to the people that we don’t.

It’d be unfair to assume that every avenue will lead to disaster. There’s an opportunity here to invest in new, future-proof digital platforms, encouraging private owners with digital expertise, to apply their own product innovations to C4. C4 could offer more to Millennials and Centennials via second and third screens, subsidising its long-form broadcast content and All4 platform.

My main fear though, is that quality alternative programming will be neglected in favour of cutting costs, that private companies will have editorial judgement over content and the value of programmes and their unique standpoint, will be undermined. Substantial profits will vanish from production budgets into the bonus packets of private owners - it’s the banking crisis coming for culture. Despite small glimmers of hope, my view remains that the only real ‘public value’ that the Dept. of Business stands to gain, I fear, is a financial one.

Professor Green: Suicide and Me

'Suicide and me' does a lot for the image of mental health. Professor Green (Stephen Manderson) brings it within our reach, lets us know that even the best of us have a relationship with a struggle for self-worth and happiness.

sheerluxe.com

It certainly identified with me. I struggled with finding happiness when I first moved to London and even more in telling people how I felt. The day I knew I needed help was when I first self-harmed, which, alongside suicide and eating disorders, is one of the most misunderstood acts of depression, both by those who have inflicted it upon themselves, and by those who haven't. To those who cut, it's a coping mechanism, a symbolic image that separates the pain and channels your negative feelings. To those who don't, it's a sign of weakness, attention seeking, a cry for help. I would never have shown anyone my cuts, it was my way of coping not of seeking attention. Manderson does well to open up these kinds of conversations around suicide and throw away the taboo to discover the reality of what's going on inside. He discovers that although these acts are too often seen as selfish, to the sufferer, it is often the opposite. A way to make things better, to relieve the burden on their families, to end the negative cycle.

Stephen explores what happens when we are unable to speak up about our troubles and share them, as well as exploring the negative thought processes that can lead to suicide. Spaces like the Maytree play integral roles in changing the way we approach conversations around suicide and mental health issues. Showing approaches like this, is why this programme, among others, is so important. (http://www.maytree.org.uk/)

mirror.co.uk

There has to be change in the way we, as a society, tackle the hard times, talk about depression, about ill mental health, about suicide. Only by doing this, can we go any way towards preventing it. I've learned not to set the bar too high, not to expect anything and be happily surprised when good things come. I work hard, dedicate myself to projects, to my career, to my family, friends and my partner, who was the first person to really understand. I also allow more time for the things that I enjoy, like playing football and photography. I learned that 'It's ok to cry, it's ok to talk about it' as Manderson's relatives echo. Everyone has bad days, but the good days will come.

tv.bt.com

This isn't a review on the quality of the programme, but instead a view on the issue at hand. We can't keep quiet about suicide, keep suppressing our feelings, swallowing our words. The fear is that when we are exposed to self-harm and to suicide, we're more vulnerable to it. But with discussion, needs to come education on how to cope. I suffered for longer than I needed to because I'd convinced myself that I could cope, when actually, I needed to talk things through to escape the blurred vision I had of life and find the beauty in it again. I did, but only because I found a way of talking, before it was too late. Sharing how we feel with family, partners, friends or even strangers, can do wonders for taking the weight off our shoulders.

It's great to see the BBC tackling these issues first hand, especially with young talent. It was all too familiar to watch as Stephen looks to camera and frustratedly exclaims, 'I'm crying again!' I s'pose filming these things is a form of therapy in itself, you spend enough takes talking about your feelings. I hope Manderson finds peace following this journey and that the programme will encourage others to travel a similar path.

I hope to see more programmes bringing the issues around mental health to the surface and encourage debate and conversation around mental health issues in the near future.

Waste

If going to a theatre and watching 'nothing much happen' and hearing 'too much said' amongst a cast of predominantly middle-aged men who sit down a lot, then 'Waste' is definitely one for you.

nationaltheatre.org - Johan Persson Photography

For me, it certainly wasn't. The 1927 version of the piece is filled with waste, wasted opportunity to provide drama. There is the unfulfilled drama of adultery, of a potential illegitimate child, of a rumoured affair in parliament - but actually we see none of that. The adulterer dies before she becomes a problem, the child goes with her. The father of the child dies too and alas, all hopes of an explosive second act are well and truly dusted away into the wings. It seems that every bit of potential this piece has, is not actually written into the script. It is left away from the stage leaving us willing, begging even, for the action to wake us from our cramped-seat-slumber.

nationaltheatre.org - Johan Persson

I liked the set, I'll give it that. There was at least some attempt to make the piece interesting through its transitions, stylishly marking the four acts and allowing for a masked set-change. For those moments that we saw the set changes, props were moved by maids and directed by the butler, making it seem to be simply, part of the furniture. It was like a dance to watch as they swung their arms flamboyantly. It's a shame the leads didn't catch on, instead they remain almost static throughout the entire piece. I think a smaller stage might have suited it best. It felt unused and empty, leaving me feeling distant and unengaged.

nationaltheatre.org - Johan Persson Photography

Michael Elwyn gave an amateur performance as Horsham, with absolutely no convincing authoritative trait. Gerrard McArthur gave a stronger performance as Lord Cantilupe, using his stage presence to his advantage when plotting to join the front benches for the Disestablishment Act. Olivia Williams was a little too reserved as adulterer Amy O'Connell, her flirting not nearly loud enough to convince me of her character's amorous nature. Charles Edwards did the best he could with a script that gave him nothing but words, and no feelings to exercise. Although with a man who didn't care enough to love a woman, nor enough in losing a child yet hold a revolver to his head over his career - I couldn't have cared less that he'd met his end, making it very hard to sympathise with those left behind. Oh and for goodness sake, the mourning Walter only needs to say the word 'waste' once, stop making a long play longer with more unnecessary words. We all got the point quite quickly, the affair is going to ruin his career and his life. I didn't need further repetitive sentences to clarify what the entire play had been screaming at me: WASTED OPPORTUNITIES!!!

A whopping 140mins of dilly-dally-dialogue to delay the inevitable is enough to drive the audience to suicide too. Cut-throat it most certainly was not. My verdict: 'Waste' is a waste of time - or at least 2hrs and 40mins of it.

Life Inside 'Islamic State'

This was a great 17min animated short, created from the diary entries of one brave individual who kept track of daily life under Daesh rule. Where shopkeepers are taxed unlawfully, men are arrested for wearing trousers that are too long and women for failing to wear a veil. Where stoning to death is a just punishment and lashing and beheadings a daily occurrence. How can we possibly understand what it's like to live our lives like this?

bbc.co.uk

Animators Ross Plaskow and Scott Coello have done a brilliant job in portraying these scenes in ways that will not distance us as Westerners. It informs us, shows us only the humanity of the victims and does not aim to shock or turn us away from its content - which is important when all too many turn their backs on the problem. Not only are the drawings skilful, with the aid of dan Pollard's score, they are symbolic of the many meanings behind the look in a man's eye, of the acts of violence, of defiance and of despair.

bbc.co.uk

What came across most for me is the loneliness of a life in Raqqa. Attending any meetings in public places can see you accused of plotting against Daesh, you cannot see your friends, you cannot watch television to connect with the outside world, what can you do? There is nothing but the four walls of your home, and the sound and tremor of bombs dropping all around you. The world has deserted you. Our diarist is advised, 'Live your life without considering the present' - well what else can he do?

It is frustrating for me as a viewer as I too search for ways to act, to fight back, to help the civilians of Raqqa - but fail to come to any hopeful conclusion. All I can do is write this post and let someone somewhere know that I am thinking of them, that they are not forgotten, that they are not alone.

Find Life Inside 'Islamic State' on Iplayer, available until 9th April: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p03lcxh7/life-inside-islamic-state