To Winter

When you step outside and the chill nip at your fingertips reminds you of a pair of gloves, upstairs snuggled in a drawer. But it's too late, and you hurry off, hiding the cold digits in your cuffs.
When the last clutches of auburn leaves break up the harsh black lines of bare branches against the eggshell sky. I wonder if the reason I shall never have walls this colour is because of the reminder it will serve; it is the hue of this cruel wind.
The carpet of fire is completed. The trees have let fall their cadmium colours, and they crunch underfoot. All too soon they will be slippery, a hazardous mush to block drains and freeze across pathways.
The sun shines but it is music falling on a deaf ear. The heat does not reach us, and we huddle, and stamp our feet, and sit by the radiators...
...and watch the bonfires flare against a backdrop of the dark as pitch sky, and squirrel away at roasted chestnuts, and delight in the bundling up of mittens and scarves and novelty hats. All Hallow's Eve is upon us, and costumes are agonised over, and Guy Fawkes celebrations will follow soon after. Fireworks, and the warm glow of your house as it comes into view after a swift walk home, and the dew-drenched cobwebs in the crisp early mornings. Christmas is just around the corner, and we save, and plan gifts, and start counting down...
...Winter is not so bad. He must feel jealous of Summer and her bright colours, her giggling breezes beside his gales, her soft rains beside his storms. He cares gently for his snowdrops, he feeds you crumbles and thick stews and stuffing with the turkey. He casts the silence during the first snow, composes the soft cascade of the flakes that fall. He has made ready all the children's favourite games. Conkers, snowball fights, the glitter-drenched pictures of November 5th. He reminds everyone of friends and family, gathers them together, and watches through the snow-lined window as they sit, and laugh, and make merry.

I can never decide if I'm a summer person or a winter person. Enjoy the beautiful season as it is.

The more you look, the more you see

Yours, Reflectfully,

Abby

Hello readers!

Hi guys,

This one's idle curiosity, but readers in the USA, Russia, Canada, France, who are you?? Leave a comment, introduce yourselves, I'd really love to know how you found me, and what you think of my posts, and what you'd like me to write about!

Looking forward to meeting you,
Abby

Gendered Objects

So I bought five umbrellas the other day. Unfortunately, as you might expect from me, it's not for some elaborate costume, but merely preparation for Winter. I lose umbrellas at an alarming rate, and this behaviour is nothing but sensible. Promise.

What disturbed me about these umbrellas though, was the fashion in which they all claimed to be a 'women's small umbrella'. They came in red, light blue, dark blue, and black. How, I implore you to explain to me, are these solely women's umbrellas? Are men only allowed umbrellas of giant proportions, so that they can demonstrate their strength by not being swept off their feet by huge gusts of wind, or so that they can skewer each other when their Neanderthal instincts call? This isolated situation seems like a fuss over nothing, but I'm afraid the 'women's umbrella' is a poster, behind which is hiding a much larger problem.

As I explained in my post To Each Their Own everyone has ways they wish to express themselves, whether through dress, behaviour, or gender identity. This, I think, is the widest area we can cover with one sentence. Anybody can identify themselves in any way they want. If we let this be true, my issues with the world would be reduced by hundreds. Sadly, we can see this statement being denied in multiple tiny ways.

Men traditionally wear trousers, but women, go ahead! Express yourself, for comfort, or practicality, or because you want to. Women traditionally wear dresses, so men, if you wear one, we will stare, and judge, and in some cases, imprison. Yes, women had to fight to have the right to appear a certain way, as black people fought for integration, and homosexual people are still fighting in many parts the world. But it's not a rite of passage! It's wrong to think that any certain group of people need to fight for the way they want to live before they 'deserve' to live it. People cannot be labelled, they cannot be put into neat drawers. "Women like shopping." "Men watch football." "Lesbians have short hair." "Children can run around and express themselves loudly and openly, but when they grow a little older we'll have to explain to them how they should really be behaving." Our society makes us believe all kinds of facts that aren't true, through TV, advertising (this one especially), and recently, tumblr, twitter, youtube, facebook. The number of ways negative messages can be put across to young, impressionable people is slightly terrifying. There is no rule-book you have to follow, there is only the entire world of possibilities that you can pick from, and choose the behaviours you wish to embody.

If the world can learn anything at all, it should be from its past. Wars are fought over religion, people are imprisoned for sexual identity, neighbours treat each other without respect because they worship different gods. None of these things will stop happening until we realise that everyone is free to act in whichever way they wish, as long as they're not hurting others, and that men can use whatever kind of umbrella they jolly well like.

I saw this video today, and it made me happy

Ultimate

I was always so caught up in music and drama clubs in secondary school that I never had time to consider doing anything else. Occasionally I would attempt an extra-curricular activity in a different field, football and netball, for example, but they were hastily swept aside without exception for rehearsals of plays at my tiny local theatre, or music courses with my county wind orchestra.

I'm the one on the far left of the sofa. Yes, really.

It wasn't until I made it to Uni that I had the joy of a fresh extra-curricular slate which I could fill, guilt-free, with whatever I wanted to be doing, and at last, a sport managed to make it into one of the top spots.

Ultimate frisbee is a relatively little-known sport (so little-known that I have to add the word 'frisbee' to my spell-checker dictionary) which is gradually increasing in popularity, especially at universities. It's a team sport whose objective is to pass an ultimate flying disc (copyright prevents actually calling it a frisbee - that would make way too much sense) between players and ultimately... passing it to a player in the end-zone of the pitch. You can't run with the disc, and whenever it is dropped by the attacking team, the other team gain possession.

Because it is not as well-known as football or rugby, the athleticism needed for this sport is often underestimated. Fitness levels must be high, and players need skill in throwing, catching and agility to name but a few. Anyone who thinks ultimate is "not a real sport" because it is new is painfully ignorant, and should be made to play an outdoor tournament in the height of summer without ever subbing off. Yes, it's that hard.

The reason I adored Winchester Ultimate as soon as I joined was the challenge it presented. Most freshers were in the same boat at the first training session - we didn't even know what the rules were, let alone tactics. This meant no one had a head-start and the race was on to see who could improve the fastest. Competing in our first tournament after three week's worth of trainings soon meant I had my priorities straight though. Fly Hard (our team name) may compete against each other at training, but ultimately (can't help it) we are one entity and it's against all other teams I channel my surprisingly high competitive nature at.

The aspect which sets Ultimate apart is Spirit of the Game. As a referee-free sport, the game relies entirely on sportsmanship of the players to run smoothly. Sounds simple enough, and indeed it makes the game truly enjoyable if both teams are courteous and happy to accept the challenge of a fair game. Matches end cheerful and players remain friends - helpful when you seem the same faces at each tournament.

Fly Hard teams 1 & 2, November 2011

This weekend just gone Fly Hard: Winchester Ultimate and I attended the beginners' tournament at Portsmouth. With two experienced teams and a beginners team there could always be boundless support for whichever team was playing, and we have really come together as a society. Of course, that could be more due to the frisbee house party (and copious drinking which naturally accompanies these events) hosted just two days previously... Hopefully the freshers feel like a true part of Fly Hard now. By this point last year, I knew that some of the greatest friends I'd make at Winchester would be from this society, and it's certainly held true. Ultimate isn't something which has completely taken over my life, merely compliments it, and runs happily alongside everything else I am always busy doing. I wouldn't have the commitment to train at frisbee twice a week and talk about it every day in between if I didn't love it, and I wouldn't love it if I didn't have such wonderful people to train with:

Fly Hard 1st Team, October 2012

It's hard to describe how a tournament makes me feel, but I might try and do so. Tired doesn't cover the emotion, because you're not necessarily sleepy. If you've done it right your body is so drained of any energy in any form you just want to sit and sit and watch the final (always so impressive) and root for the underdogs and never ever get up. As team-mate Jamie says, "If you don't come off the pitch and want to throw up, you haven't run hard enough." The pride of knowing you did all you could in all your games, and that your team were almost communicating telepathically by the end, and that your feet hurt so much that you don't think you'll be walking for several days, and that there are layers of bruises on your knees, elbows, hips, this is what I love about tournaments.

I've set a goal to get exercise every day, following my fantastic weekend; I want to see if I can make it even better next time.

Yours, joyously,

Abby

I haven't written for a while...

But that's okay, neither has Shakespeare!

New post coming soon, I promise dear readers, about one of the great loves of my life.