The Children of Huang Shi

WAR MADE THEM ORPHANS, ONE MAN MADE THEM LEGENDS.

I recently watched this film, and yes, primarily I was attracted to it by the fact that Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Chow Yun-Fat play central parts in it. They are both pretty hot in my mind. So as I began watching it the story really struck me and like all things wondrous and therefore pondrous I have researched it more and have subsequently blogged it.

First, I shall begin with a brief synopsis of the film, I shan't put in any spoilers for fear it may ruin the film for you!!

The film is about a young British journalist, George Hogg, who with the assistant of a courageous (in this film American, in real life New Zealander) nurse and a Chinese Communist fighter, saves a group of orphaned children during the Japanese occupation of China in 1937. Basically. In short. That is the precept. However, it is essentially a build up of how this journalist and friends came to lead sixty orphaned boys on a journey of over 500 miles across snow-bound Liu Pan Shan mountains (or the Silk Road as it is otherwise known) to safety in the Mongolian desert from the advancing Japanese forces in China.

Along the way to this epic voyage he meets Lee, this American/though really New Zealander nurse who he falls in love with, Chen Hansheng the communist, Madame Wang the aristocrat turned merchant of opium and other narcotics in light of the economic displacement of the war, and of course the kids, who each have their own tale and personality of which we see a few of in the film.

On researching this film and the actual history of the story, there are of course some absences and playing around with the facts. Hogg was appointed headmaster, as it were, of these orphaned schoolchildren by Rewi Alley, a communist New Zealander, who has celebrated in China's revolution. It was his idea, in fact, to take the children to a safer place apparently, but it seems Hogg has taken the credit for it in this film by the total omission of Alley as a character. He was a communist and suspected homosexual so, for these reasons, it is suggested that he is omitted from this Hollywood film.

Regardless of these facts, it is, by the by, a "true" story as much as we can say such a thing. It was an eye widening film and made me look at a history, other than British history, of which my knowledge is lacking due to my unfortunately short-sighted nature (not that I don't enjoy other history- I just prefer to stick with what I know!)

It is appearing now and then on Sky, so catch it if you can. Personally I am going to go on Amazon, if the postal strikes don't get in my way, and buy this film to watch properly from the beginning, no interruptions!

Meet Harry The Ragdoll

This is Harry Potter... obviously not the real one, but my little Ragdoll. Embarrassingly enough he has been with me since I was 13. He was given to me on my 13th birthday,the summer before my parents split up, by my dad. I still have my two Harry Potter mugs and Quidditch night lamp used for reading late at night (which I did a lot- my mam wasn't too impressed at my dad buying that but I was!! I need a miniture lightbulb though... like those ones you used to get for doing physics experiments with at scholl when making circuits etc). As you can see I have been a Harry Potter fan for a loooong time *sadly*. But dear lil Harry has been with throughout those horrible years as a teenager, he has absorbed many tears, he has travelled with me to university and back witnessing all the messy hangovers and tantrums there, and many an adventure besides.

Isn't he beautiful?

He still kips somewhere in my bed though he often disappears down the side, back or under a pillow for reasons I haven't yet fathomed. He has been a great comfort and gets hugged a lot whilst chewing things over in mind like whether to give up this Masters shiz or to do this or that. Subsequently he gets very grubby through his well loved owner.

Today I gave him a wash.

A la machine de wash.

This is him coming out after being washed. I think I was rather sick in the head on constructing this thing... I trussed him up like a man being buried at sea (see here) and popped him in the wash. He is now sitting on the kitchen radiator where the above photos were being taken, to dry out whilst I cook Chilli Con Carne for tea :) YUM!

Maybe I need to see a shrink?

Nah, for now Harry will be the ear I can bend!!

OK, let's face it. It has been over a month of blogging absence.

I have started university (my Master of Arts degree), I have gone down to two days a week at work and all my friends have drifted back off to university or home etc. They only seem to come out in the summer. It happens every year, that sinking feeling. To be honest this year it was worse than last year and I am not sure why.

It didn't help that I don't like doing my Masters at the moment, well that is till today- I feel I made a breakthrough. I really enjoyed my "Body in the Renaissance and Early Modern Europe" course and followed it by lunch (or in my case carrot cake with a huge mug of tea :) yummy) with two of the girls in my course. It was good. We were all in the same boat. All from universities that are not Royal Holloway. We are all finding some of the other courses weird and not really suited to us. None of us necessarily want to be archivists or librarians we idealistically want to bring history to the masses.... make what we find fun and exciting fun and exciting for everyone else. In some ways I hold out for a female presenter on a documentary- they are still mostly male!! Though I do not think for one moment I shall be the face that launched a thousand documentaries, I shall hope to help someone do it. Historical research- research Jane Austen period clothing and eating habits, the Tudor sex life, the Flapper girls and Tommies, and the Romantic poets... oh the possibilities. Today is the first day I think I may have actually made the right decision to go back to university.

Yay!

On a plus note I am getting used to working all the time now (at work I mean). It has been tough. Work has been a huge part of my life for over a year and now it has taken a backseat. Now my brother works there and is getting into the whole thrall of it leaving me behind, or as I am starting to think of it, not behind just adjacent and not necessarily on the same course. This time last year I was unsure of what I was going to do. I was applying for jobs I didn't really want but I didn't really know what I wanted... a whole heap has happened since then. I am more settled. I know what I want, or perhaps more accurately what I don't want.

In short, the world is good now. Before the world was bad thus bloggeth I not.

Ode to Death of a Pod Boot

It has been awhile. Apologies. I shall get on to why the long delay soon enough. For now I want to talk of my love for my favourite Pod boots.

They have died. There has been a hole just at the back near the ankle forming for quite some time and this week a zip fell off one of them. They are slowly making their way to shoe heaven. My mother tried throwing them out this weekend. I managed to secret them out of the rubbish pile before she could catch me!

Why do I love these hideous monstrosities?

They are hardly sexy, feminine, gorgeous boots everyone longs for. They make my toes poke holes in all my favourite stripey socks because of the platform's incline downwards, they look ridiculous with all skirts, my mam calls them my Oliver Twist boots as I look like a street urchin when wearing with cropped trousers (oh yes, I bust them out with cropped trousers!!) and they are so unfashionable they warrant being advertised in Grannies R Us outfitters store.

But alas I do love them so. I have begun a search for a new boot love of equal comfort and hideousness. :( But I just want them.

They have been with me through the traumas of Sixth Form, the wild nights and crazy days of university and on the North Terrace at work in the depths of winter... that equates to about 6 years altogether.

So here I blog here to praise my "Pod boot", the highlight of shoe comfort and major "mother annoyance" and platform fantasticness. Praise be Podness!