Monday, 15 July 2013

Every Second Song is OUT OF ACTION

That's right guys. You're going to have to find your Northern rambles somewhere else for the time being.

 I've been MIA for a few weeks, with the occasional post when I've had time, but it's finally official. has been passed back to the domain gods and I'm currently building my new website. I'll be relaunching it when I'm back from Barcelona, and it'll be much snazzier and have a much more relevant name (to be decided...).

I'll make sure the new website is well known, but if you're mega keen to stay updated in the meantime, follow me on twitter (@farrahkelly). If you want to be specifically informed of the new site launch, send me a line on and I'll send out a message when I'm up and running again. It will be, naturally, riveting.

See you on the other side!

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Floating over Barcelona...

Having trekked up a cruel amount of dusty steps to get the the peak of Montjuic, Barcelona's home to museums, viewpoints and the old Olympic site, there was no way on earth you could tempt me and Beth to hike back down again.

Montjuic Cable Car- a review!

Thankfully, we didn't have to set up camp there for the indefinite future, as the nice folks at Montjuic provide a handy little cable car service.

There are two cablecar routes; one around the massive Montjuic itself, and one that acts as a courier between the peak of the hill, overlooking the Med, and Barceloneta beach. They depart from different points, so double check you're getting onto the right route. We opted for the Barceloneta route, because otherwise we would have never made it down the hill again.


The views are just gorgeous. As you're hovering over the ports, you're treated to panoramic views of the city. On a clear day (-though is any day unclear in BCN?), you can see for miles. It's such a lovely feeling, swooping (slightly faster than imagined) over the city, spotting the landmarks and pointing out your hotel. What a cool alternative way to see the city.

Depending on your route and whether you want a round trip, tickets cost between 10-17 euro, our one-way to Barceloneta was 11 euro. It's a little steep (no pun intended) if you're on a mega budget, as the whole journey lasts around ten minutes one way, but for the most part I'd say it's worth it. How often do you get to float above a beautiful city, after all?


Saturday, 6 July 2013

Don't talk to strangers- or do...

In London, there are secret rules.

Breaking them ousts you as an outsider, letting everyone in the immediate vicinity know that you're a foolish, flailing tourist. They stir up feelings of mild contempt or pure raging hatred, depending on how serious the crime.

London is in fact designed specifically to identify outsiders- from impossible-to-pronounce towns to those pointless Open Door buttons on all tubes (HINT- none of them work, it's just a sinister TFL ploy to reveal newbies to the entire carriage).

By far the biggest London rule, however, is to NEVER SPEAK TO ANYONE. Ever. Even if you're squished up against their face between King's Cross and Moorgate. Even if their rucksack just smacked you in the face. Especially not if you're in the queue for something. What are you, some sort of sociopath?

**Top London Tip**: It's really fun to break this rule.

So I bought a (toy) lion at the Zoo Late a week or so back, and being the cheapskate I am, refused to pay for a plastic bag to carry him home in. And as it turns out, being on a train full of drunk people while you're carrying a toy lion is a great icebreaker.

We (me and my lion) were being mercilessly stared at. It was getting awkward. I had to break the rule. "I don't just carry him around everywhere" I announced, startling a commuter who had been snoozing. The couple sat across from me caught my eye and started laughing. The man sat next to them, who was almost certainly a drug dealer, asked me what my lion was called. He suggested Tony, a la the Kellogs adverts. I pointed out that Tony was in fact a tiger, but nice try. More people laughed.

I sat quietly for the rest of my trip, feeling really bloody pleased with myself. I must be hilarious, I thought, sauntering down Shepherd's Bush. I'd always secretly known I was a comedic genius, but these Tube strangers confirmed it for me. In two simple quips I'd made at least seven people in laughter. This must be what Peter Kay feels like all the time. I rang my boyfriend to tell him the good news. 

A few days later, after a particularly bad night's sleep, I nipped to the shop to get some milk. Yawning as I passed over my money, the guy commandeering the till asks me "Still in bed?". I reply, "Yeah, and going straight back to it", cue a ripple of laughter from him, the guy stocking the tobacco shelf, and the woman behind me in the queue. Wow, I thought, smiling, that wasn't even that funny. Maybe because no one in London talks to each other, when they do make the slightest joke, it's actually hilarious... I'm coming back here again.

I think London is dangerous for my ego.