My headaches have moved.

I have taken the big, traitorous step of moving to Tumblr, my new home. You will see my thoughts there from now on. Enjoy! http://aglassoftea.tumblr.com

There are no longer half-naked punters falling about with indian headdresses and Evel Knievel helmets on when I go for breakfast. Life sucks.

Glastonbury is over. Normal life just isn't the same.

My new Canadian home.

As a kid, I always had this vision that the USA was the shit. It had everything: famous people, colourful brands, cool towns, cool town names (come on: Seattle? Nashville? Kalamazoo!?)

To me, it seemed to be the hub of all things "hip"; the country of freedom and independence; the place with collectable car licence plates!

After crossing the border into Ontario, all these things still lingered in the back of my mind. Heck, some of them still do (mainly the town names and licence plate things, but that's just me).

However, after some discussion with Robin's grandparents' friend's daughter, this beautiful country really does have the best of both worlds.

Most noticably, the beautiful scenery that surrounds you wherever you are in Canada. From the moment I crossed the border on the bus into the city of Windsor. The city is clean, and there are trees - lots and lots of trees.

We were picked up by Ann, who is absolutely wonderful in every possible way. Driven to our temporary home for six days, I felt so relieved to be in familiar company. I had met Ann previously when she visited England, where I was branded as "shy". She offered us a basement room with a bathroom, a computer and plenty of privacy.

Over the next few days, we were carted around in luxury (a car) to Niagara Falls, Toronto and the hidden gems of southern Ontario. Never did I think that the United States modest neighbours would sway me into falling in love.

Robin and I both agreed that we would return after university - but only just. If Ann had offered us a permanent home in Windsor, I think we would have jumped at the chance.

O Canada, our home and native land!

Our True North strong and free!

Kurt Cobain will have his revenge on Seattle.

Seattle greeted us on Wednesday morning with light, soaking rainfall that made the streets seem a little more real, compared to the dry, dusty boulevards of West Hollywood.
After our curious venture into Pike Place Market, Union Street and the Seattle Art Museum (eugh, "art" is so pretentious, but I'll talk about that later), we headed for Madrona Boulevard - a quiet, suburban place with no real significance than what stand a few streets away.

We met with the sign for Viretta Park - or "Kurt's" Park - on a silent, very green suburban street.
The first few things I saw written on the bench at the bottom of the steps was "Fuck you Courtney!!" and "Courtney Love has a festering pussyhole" - the funniest message I had seen scrawled innappropriately in a while. But no, I must contain myself.
We spotted a bench, almost glowing in the middle of a clearing. There were more messages, from all over the world. If you look to the left of the bench, you see the house in which Kurt Cobain lived and died. Couldn't quite believe it when I saw it, right there infront of me.
It seems to be the only memorial for Kurt in the world, but we had that bench all to ourselves. Just us, with the messages of love and thanks, flowers, bracelets and cigarette butts.
I left my own message of gratitude, as well as some lyrics from "Beans" (always a favourite!) and the single bracelet I wear on my left wrist. Robin left a donut and a cigarette, being the Good Samiritan that he is.

I can see the bench now in my mind, looking out onto Lake Washington in the darkness of night, with only the sounds of rustling leaves and the lights on in his own home. From the short time I spent at Kurt's last place on Earth, however cliche, he really is still alive.

Golden Gate Park. The revolution begins.

As I sat in amongst the young, the old and the neithers at Golden Gate Park - with a $5 punnet of strawberries beside me and my boyfriend in my lap - I felt slightly overwhelmed.
If it weren't for the historic gathering of 1967, this could be any regular, run-of-the-mill land of brown-green grass and dog shit. The grassy knoll of people in black, white, green, red, grey and most definitely brown, many of whom clutched an instrument, say otherwise.
These are the ones who are keeping that summer alive each and every day: with the smell of pot wafting through the air alongside the sweet, soothing sounds of bongo drums and percussion. Although I wasn't there at the time of the Summer of Love (nor was my mother, actually), I still found myself sitting on my little patch of grass in the middle of born-again hippies doing their thing, satisfied with my little piece of 1967 - however insignificant it may be!

Nash Vegas

Coming to America, I wasn't initially sure what to expect. In some respects, I was expecting to feel anxious, isolated but overall, excited. In New York City, I felt exactly these. When you're watching the films and seeing all the beautiful people living it up in NYC, you look up at the skyscrapers and down the busling streets for your own camera crew to jump out and launch you into something Sex and the City-esque. Wrongo. I guess that's what you get for being a naive 19 year-old.
The city is beautiful, and sitting in Washington Square in Greenwich Village was the best feeling I've had in a long while. Then, a day after, we bus it to Nashville: Music City.
Driving through Tennessee, it was gorg. I could easily buy a house in suburban Nashville and live out here for a while, rediscovering my country roots.
Me and the boy ventured to 12th and Porter in Downtown Nashville to see Framing Hanley's release set. Although the DVD dragged on way too long for my liking, the short yet sweet acoustic set got me in the mood for new music. Nashville is a revolutionary hub for that, whether it be rock, folk and of course, the legendary country music of yesteryears influencing young artists continuously.
I will post recommendations of places to visit/eat/enjoy once I'm all settled at home with a big cup of tea. Maybe even a scone.

The final week of waiting.

The time has finally come. On Thursday, I will be venturing into the unknown with only my trusty companion (pfft) by my side. The United States of America.
From what I'm guessing is normal, I'm nervous and excited. With all the news of muggings and terrorism, I'm not really sure what to expect - hopefully not the mysterious disappearance of my personal belongings.

Firstly, we are embracing the beautiful city of New York. My boyfriend has never been there before, so naturally we're clambering to the top of the Empire State Building and seeing all the sites before heading off on the 21-hour journey to Nashville. Wow, this is a big step.

Frances Bean Cobain is Nobody's Daughter.

Courtney Love - Jools Holland Interview

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It has recently been revealed that the 17 year-old Frances Bean Cobain asked to be removed from her mother Courtney Love's care after claims that she had stolen from Frances' trust fund, left for her by her late father Kurt Cobain.

Despite all the shit I've heard about Love being a shoddy mother, I can't help but feel sorry for her this Mother's Day. We've heard that she's shot up in the presence of her young child and hired a handful of nannies to raise her... apparently, she hasn't been much of a mother at all.

Not only has she lost custody of her only child, but the court have also slapped a restraining order on her, restricting her from seeing her daughter. Cobain has been seen parading around with new boyfriend Isaiah Silva, most recently at California's Coachella Valley Arts and Music Festival.

Instead of spending Mother's Day with her daughter, Courtney Love discussed her new album art and the "tortured souls" of artists alike on The Jools Holland Show last night.

She has also taken to Twitter to express her love for Frances in a series of notoriously misspelled status updates.

I was often on Frances' side when it came to Love vs. Cobain - being the whackjob that Courtney is - but I can't help but feel real and complete empathy for Courtney as she fights through times like these.

I don't think even Courtney Love would steal from her own child's funds. Her child has already been denied enough.

Has Courtney Love made England her new home?

I don't know if anybody else has noticed recently, but Courtney Love seems to have been spending a lot of time in the glamourous hang-outs of London in the past month or so.

She's also adopted Britain's best-kept-secret Micko Larkin alongside others to form a new, re-vamped Hole.

So why has Courtney ditched her native land for England? Maybe it's something to do with her all-new celebrity entourage, including Pixie Geldof, Noel Fielding and of course, Mr. Larkin.

It's looking likely that Britain is her new preference. In a 2008 interview, Courtney gushes over "eccentric-friendly" England:

"I am fed up with Los Angeles. It's dirty and full of crazy people. I want a complete lifestyle change. People criticise Britain but it is still a cleaner, safer place to live than Hollywood."

I wonder what Frances Bean Cobain thinks of the move? It is likely that she is staying right where she is, with full-custody now given to the late Kurt Cobain's mother and sister. How is Courtney going to cope without her?

All that partying with her new British friends, I'm guessing.

Penny Lane: a fashionista.

I have such a ridiculous headache right now, which has been on and off for about three days. Dehydration; maybe. Loud music; possibly. Old contact lenses; more than likely.

The sun has seems to have been overshadowed by a flurry of grey clouds and chilly winds all over again - just as I thought summer was finally settling in. So I spent the afternoon after work at my dad's house, flicking through the movie channels.

That's when I stumbled across Cameron Crowe's semi-autobiographical piece, Almost Famous. Oh look, another hippie film, vaguely reminiscent of the Summer of Love. Not this lively little piece of art!

Although I wouldn't have expected someone like Kate Hudson to be the leading cool-girl - what with all the sappy rom coms she's pursued recently - she sure as hell pulls it off. Her character, the enigmatic Penny Lane, is an easy charmer and her outfits are classic to what you'd see in old documentaries and photographs of the 1960s/70s hippiedom.

One of my main goals in touring around the United States (I'd like to think, reminiscent of the Stillwater Tour 1973) is to find as many thrift stores, charity shops and vintage warehouses as I possibly can, digging for a 1960s gem - the closest thing I can get to the hippie culture and babyboom era of the 1960s and 1970s.

When I was in Los Angeles a few years ago, lying in the backstreets of Hollywood Boulevard was American Vintage: a place that I thoroughly intend to shop til I drop. If you ever find it (located on Hollywood Boulevard and Melrose Avenue, as far as I know), you'll be thrilled to find beauties of Penny Lane-esque style.

Seriously now, is Nick Clegg for real?

I am now officially a citizen of Britain. Despite that I have been from birth; and I'm pretty sure my passport says so too; I feel more like a citizen of Britain than I've ever been going down to my local, grotty polling station to vote for the next man who will ruin our wonderful country.

I usually don't condone Americanisation in Britain, but these television debates have been amazing. I always knew body language was a key part in communication, and with the two-horse race of Labour and Conservative, I didn't think there was much alternative.

Then, in bounds Nick Clegg; the savour of us normal people. There was his talking-to-the-camera thing, his air-fondling boobies thing and, well, just coming across as an ordinary bloke.

Not just that, but his policies look good. Great, actually. A cheaper alternative to nuclear weapons? Right on! The right to sack your MP if they aren't doing their job? Sweet! Legalising cannabis? Well, he's got the students secured right there.

Overall, Clegg and his party look grand, but is there any substance to what he is saying? Sure, he's confident in the television debates, but think about this. If Clegg was running say, the Conservatives instead of David Cameron, would you vote for him?

It seems that a lot have people have used these live debates as the reason for their vote: who is more confident and "seems" nicer. I think we definitely need a confident, competent leader to run our country - but this is overshadowing the real effects of the political parties: the policies.

Guess we'll have to wait to see what Britain decides.

Eastern United States, travel shmavels.

According to my mother and my step-dad, I am highly unorganised. This may or may not be true. I may be flying out to New York for a month in roughly three weeks time with no plans of where we are yet to stay. Once we crawl off of the plane in New York, we're straight on a bus to Nashville, Tennessee. That's where it all begins.

I was always a bit apprehensive going down south, what with all the rednecks and inbreeds and all. Apparently I have been watching too many horror movies that are set in the wilderness or ghost towns of states like Tennessee or West Virginia.

But with our tight schedule of only a month, I was thinking that it may be easier for us to stay East. Right now, our route looks something like a two day bus journey to California from Nashville and back again from Seattle to New York.

However, my love of California and the overhype that it receives as "the place to be" has drawn me back to the hills of Los Angeles and San Francisco. I want to dive deeper into the culture of these cities, with a little help from the hosters and surfers of Couchsurfing. I want to relive the Summer of Love, discover buried record shops and clothes stores.

I wanna do a bit of celebrity spotting too. When I visited Los Angeles a few years ago, within the first hour of arriving, I strolled down Hollywood Boulevard surrounded by crowds of journalists and gorgeous cars of the Gumball 3000 Rally as my brother's idols, Bam Margera and Ryan Dunn, pulled up not three yards away from me. Fuck yeah.

Without the West Coast, they'll be no visits to Adrienne Armstrong's eco-friendly boutique Atomic Garden in Oakland or taking in the unconditional love of Nirvana fans at Kurt Cobain's bench in Viretta Park in Seattle, adjacent to the house where he died.

But there will be the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, the lights of New York City (well, we'll have that anyway) and the streets of Philadelphia, as Springsteen once sang.

So, to set my tired mind at rest and maybe make our journey easier, can anyone recommend any places to go on the Eastern side of the USA? Or shall we stick to the plan and continue over to the beautiful Western side?

The wonderment of Swanage.

Well, I spent three days of this week in the little town of Swanage in Dorset. I have not felt that relaxed in a very long time. How can people not have hot tubs in their lives? Whatever is going on in life; from running out of milk to work deadlines; you're always gonna be chilled in the tub. Always.

We spent most of the time doing what us young ones do best: drinking, smoking, eating and sleeping. Possibly the occasional unprotected sexual activity (nothing to do with me, mind you).

There was barbeques and fields of long grass, hot showers, a warm fire and Freeview television. Oh yeah, and a roof deck. Best week ever.

I so want to organise a week away to the log cabin this summer, but with it being about a grand in the peak time, I'm pretty sure it's not gonna be easy. With the whole traveling around USA for a month and returning without a cent... thing.

Polly & The Billets Doux - Follow My Feet (live at the Firefly - 3rd Jun...

I have yet to see these guys live, and trust me, it will be a magical experience. Polly and the Billets Doux, a Winchester-based band, combine rockabilly with the beautifully feminine voice of Polly Perry and, my Lord, a cello too! They've played a handful of sets at Glastonbury Festival and have even had a set on Radio 6 music. Surely that's enough for you to be impressed, right? Take a listen!

Lady Gaga shows off her brand new amputation.

Hmm yeah, somehow I think not. New reports have claimed that the new Queen of Pop, Lady Gaga has bravely ventured into surgery - under the beckons of her record company - to have her left leg amputated at the knee purely for cosmetic purposes.

According to Pakistan News: Stefani Germanotta, more universally known as Lady Gaga, "stunned fans and television viewers" when she announced the news of her lack of leg. What the article failed to mention was when and where exactly she announced this.

We all know that Lady Gaga's passion to shock has put her in the limelight in the past, but I'm pretty sure that even Gaga isn't that much of a nutter.

Wonder if I can get the leg cheap on eBay?

A confession of love for Hayley Williams

I've been intrigued by the whole Riot Grrrl movement. I have for a while now, beginning with my fad for Nirvana (grunge guitar riffs, weird lyrics), moving swiftly over to the other half of Kurt Cobain: Courtney Love and her band Hole, leading onto the likes of L7 and even a small spark for feminists Bikini Kill. I idolise their female empowerment. What female doesn't

want to feel strong, sexy and comfortable in her own skin?

But now my eyes have locked onto Hayley Williams, lead singer of male-dominated rock band Paramore, after discovering through their breakthrough single, Misery Business. At last, a 21st century Riot Grrrl with one rule only: be yourself.

Firstly, I found myself being drawn into her somewhat 'vulnerable' image. She isn't your typical "sexy" woman. If anything, she's cute; you want to take her in one arm and shield off any harm with the other.

But then, she opens her mouth. I was blown away when she tore through the chorus of Misery Business, that was when I knew that this new-found obsession was probably a permanent one. Courtney was always very outspoken, loud and dominant, but not so much Hayley. Sure, she is the front-woman of an increasingly popular band - but unlike Courtney, she doesn't dominate every Paramore interview; she isn't hounded by the tabloids for crazy behaviour; she isn't in constant legal battles over drug abuse. Instead, Paramore have worked closely with their fans to prove how accessible they are, and this is what has made them so easy to love. Hayley is modest, charming, funny... overall, she's just a normal 21 year-old girl, really - but with the world at her feet. Just take a look at her Tumblr blog: she shares random thoughts just like the rest of us.

“It’s hard when kids think you’re perfect, because I never will be and I never want to be,” Hayley says, in a recent interview with The Sunday Times. “So I make sure to explain to people that life is shitty sometimes. I want people to know I’m not perfect."

As well as this, she's a fashionista in her own right. Whether it's her everyday girl-next-door look to her red carpet appearances, she always manages to look kooky and cool. It's so refreshing that through the hoards of fake-tan, tight dresses and poppy synths, there's a small-town flaming redhead with fiery stage presence whose not afraid to be herself. She's not California, she's Tennessee.

And this is why I love you, Hayley Williams. You seem like the kinda girl you'd want to chill out, play Playstation and drink beers with - and I really couldn't think of anything better.

The Abhorsen Club

Sabriel and Touchstone, an artist's impression

Image © http://abhorsenclub.deviantart.com

The Garth Nix Abhorsen trilogy: Sabriel, Lirael and Abhorsen have been favourites of mine for a long time now. My boyfriend and I swapped books on a rainy day and he happened to hand me Sabriel, which I fell in love with almost instantly. The story is about a young girl living in the non-magical kingdom of Ancelstierre, opposite the mysterious Old Kingdom in which she was born. The book is a winding, fascinating and magical story about victory and coming-of-age as Sabriel sets out to find her father, the Abhorsen, who has recently been trapped in death by a Greater Dead being.

I'm now onto the third book, Abhorsen, and I'm putting off reading it in one go for as long as possible. After discussion, me and the boy have decided that these could be an incredible base for a film. It's got mystery, magic, passion, love and loads of action. What more could you want?

I have yet to think about who would be cast as who, who would screen-write and who would direct. Would each book be an individual film, or blended into one? What would be the final result?

I wish we were all underwater sometimes. Everything seems so much more tranquil.

B.o.B - Airplanes Feat. Hayley Williams of Paramore [OFFICIAL AUDIO]

What I like most about this is the blending of two music genres. I love that some genres aren’t always closed-off and generalized. This brings two different music fans together, allowing us to share and create and come up with something brand new and innovative. It brings in new fans and expands our creativity.

I just found this when searching on NME’s news section. I never really pictures vocal-powerhouse Hayley Williams hustling her way into rap music, but this really, really works. Her contribution is humble but strong and really brings the song together. Without it, all I’d think is, “Yay, another generic rap song”, but then again I guess this is biased, as I’m much more into Paramore than I am with any R&B acts. B.o.B chose his vocalist wisely, and I’d love to see them collaborate again.

Crances Bean Frobain

I'm not sure what to say about this girl anymore. I've read that she's grounded, I've read she is "more than just a name", I've read that she kicks up a fuss at train stations because the ticket collector doesn't know who she is. Truth is, whatever she chooses to do with her life, Frances Bean Cobain is always going to have "that" name, and it's always going to be her catalyst.

I looked at her entry in Wikipedia yesterday and found that she was described as "an American singer". Sorry, but what the fuck? Yes, she recently done some backing vocals for one song on Amanda Palmer's new project Evelyn Evelyn - I'm pretty sure this isn't enough to call her a singer. I've listened to the track, called "My Space". Her vocal contribution - along with the likes

of My Chemical Romance's frontman Gerard Way, Andrew WK, Weird Al and Tegan and Sara - isn't exactly noticeable (not a criticism, I'm sure she's very good, given her genetics and all), so why exactly is she being branded an "American singer" at this early stage? I'm pretty sure that she always stated that she didn't want to pursue a career the music scene - maybe she's doing so purely because she can?

As well as dipping her toe in the music pool, she's also recently dwindled her way into the Rolling Stone offices in New York City. Surely her name was nothing to do with that, right? I could be wrong: she could have worked for it, she could have bombarded them with CVs and snippets of her passion for journalism. Then again, I'm pretty sure the surname "Cobain" caused much more of a stir than her top-notch articles in the school newspaper.

"I want to be known for doing something valid with my life," Frances states in an interview with Harper's Bazaar in 2008. "I don't want to be known as the daughter of Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain, I just want to be known as Frances."

Hmmm, I think it may be time to prove it, Frances.

Listen to "My Space" by Evelyn Evelyn here.

Speck you.

I haven't felt this shit in a very long time. It could be to do with one main factor, and it probably is. I don't know if its stupid, I don't, all I know is that I feel under-appreciated. A joke. A complete and utter dickhead. I hate looking vulnerable as it is. I'm so angry. I don't know why, really. All I feel is love, an undeniable urge to give happiness... but after a moment, it's completely disregarded and forgotten - and that is what I fear is about to happen to me. Disregarded and forgotten.

I don't necessarily want "things". Sometimes I don't even want words. Maybe just a look, or a gesture. When I know, I'll know - and I don't.

I'm just so fucking angry.