Nick Griffin and Rape Scaremongering

So... long time, no post. Unfortunately life got in the way a bit (moving flat, job searching and the wee matter of a 15,000 word Masters dissertation), but I've been biding my time waiting for something to make me seethe.

That time is now.

Over the past few months there have been repeated protests in Midlothian about the housing of convicted violent rapist Robert Greens, otherwise known as the Da Vinci rapist because he attacked a Dutch student near Rosslyn Chapel, one of the locations for the book.

After his release from prison, no other local authority in the UK would take him, so Midlothian has been forced to house him. Local people have been up in arms about the matter and have undertaken a number of protests, including marching outside the house and staging a go-slow in the centre of Dalkeith to slow traffic.

Now since this furore began, my main reaction has been one of discomfort. I'm uncomfortable with the fact that the protesters have placed so much media attention on this man, because it distorts the perception of rape. This man is dangerous because he perfectly fits the stereotype of 'real rape'. He attacked a young victim, who was a stranger to him, and used considerable violence. I'm not denigrating the victim's experience - witnesses who found her walking startled along a road thought she had been in a car crash. The crime was repellent. However, by warning about the dangers of this man - who we know is capable of rape and assault - is likely to underplay the dangers of the majority of rapists who are much more subtle in their methods. I respect the locals' right to protest, but I worry about the message they are sending.

Then the BNP heard about the protests and decided to get in on the act. Nick Griffin made the journey North to join in but there was, as it were, a stooshie and the BNP were forced to leave. Commenting on the 'ugly scenes', Griffin said:

I hope the people who are protesting us feel ashamed and if their daughter or granddaughter is raped next - maybe they would change their minds.

Wow. There is so much wrong with this statement that my head feels as if it will implode. This is probably a good time for numbers.

1) This sounds pretty threatening. If Griffin isn't suggesting the BNP might rape these women then he is certainly suggesting that he wouldn't mind if someone else did. 'Cos then obviously we'd all turn to those bastions of morality for protection (even though there have been a number of BNP members and representatives charged with sex offences recently).

2) As my good friend Camilla has pointed out, Griffin is simply using this as a way to positively publicise the BNP rather than show solidarity with those protesting. He knows that his presence is controversial and liable to draw attention away from the matter at hand, but chose to rock up anyway. Given his response, he certainly doesn't seem to care about the welfare of the victim or the locals protesting.

3) Perhaps this sounds pedantic, but rape myths get my back up like nothing else. Only women are raped, and young women at that - and we all need to be protected by big, bad Nick and his BNP cronies. Urgh.

I'm sure there's more that will enrage me about this statement, but for now I have that dissertation to be getting on with...

But for now, needless to say - Nick Griffin has been banished to my own personal hellfire.

Massive Killer Pacman Ghosts: Why Frape isn't Funny Part 2

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote Zombie Sheep and Beelzebub' Dinner: Why Frape isn't Funny, which has become the most read post I've written. In it I ranted about how it had become acceptable to use the term 'frape' a contraction of 'facebook rape' to describe someone hacking into your facebook account, and how this has spread into a wider acceptance of rape as something to be joked about. Thankfully, in the intervening months I have seen a much lower usage of 'frape' but it seems that the underlying current that made it acceptable is still strong.

You may have heard about petitions to facebook regarding the proliferation of pages which joke about rape. They include 'You know she's playing hard to get when your chasing her down an alleyway', 'Raping your mates girlfriend to see if she can put up a fight', 'Kicking Sluts in the Vagina', 'I know a silly little bitch that needs a good slap', and 'Riding your Girlfriend softly, Cause you don't want to wake her up'.

Lovely.

Given that Facebook says in it's terms and conditions that "You will not post content that is: hateful, threatening or pornographic; incites violence; or contains nudity or graphic or gratuitous violence", one would think that it would be easy to have these pages shut down. Alas, Facebook thinks these are all just hilarious rude jokes and to shut the down would be a violation of free speech.

Because we all know that women who have been assaulted and/or raped have a total hold over their own rights. They have freedom of movement, right? They have freedom of speeh, yeah? This week I read an account by Andrea Brenton Rushing entitled 'Surviving Rape: A Morning/Mourning Ritual' in which she describes feeling unsafe in her own home, suffering severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder where she had to take extended leave from her job as a lecturer because she couldn't write, nor even remember things. But, y'know, the fact that she woke up in her own bed to being attacked is funny. Funny because he obviously didn't know to go 'softly' enough.

Now if Facebook is going to be so blasé about this, we can take this as an affirmation of what they're doing. An affirmation of making fun of rape, and rape victims.

Facebook, you are being damned to my own special level of hellfire, along with Catherine Hakim, Ken Clark, and Jane Austen. Oh, and because I feel there would be a splendid irony to it, in that hell I will set massive killer pacman ghosts on you - you may try to run (digitally, I suppose), but you can't hide...

Postgraduatedom in Numbers: Week One

After a year of waiting, 3 months of grappling with the Career Development Loan folk, and innumerable visits to the NLS, I began my Masters this week.

There have been 3 lectures.

One assignment sprung on us with very little notice.

45 hours of working at my job because I didn't know that either of the above were happening.

5 6am starts.

3 1am finishes.

1 expletive filled rant.

1 bout of sobbing.

Oh, and 2,323 words on an assignment on Dual Agency and the Evolution of Thought in the Work of Fatima Mernissi.

I'm pretty tired, but I'M BACK, baby.

Surely that's a Misprint? and Deals with the Funding Troll

This week I was invited to a panel discussion entitled God & Sex. Sounds interesting, and particularly relevant to my research. Alas, on further investigation this does not seem to be the case. Indeed, it would seem that God really doesn't have much to do with it at all:

Does the Church talk too much about sex? Are any of the Church’s traditional teachings on sex relevant today? Should Christians rethink their approach to sex? Or stay out of the discussion entirely?

This panel discussion on God and sex, held at the University of Edinburgh, features:

Richard Holloway, outspoken ‘after-religionist,’ former bishop of Edinburgh, and champion of LGBT causes
Dr. Sara Parvis, lecturer in Divinity at the University of Edinburgh, feminist, and devout Roman Catholic
Fr. Ian Paton, rector of Old St Paul’s

Chaired by the Rev. Harriet Harris, Chaplain to the University of Edinburgh.

Now I'm not saying that this isn't a very valid and necessary discussion to be having, far from it. The way the church treats sex and sexuality is pretty dire in my opinion. I also like the idea that Christians should rethink their approach to sex, it brings up all sorts of images of a Cosmopolitan-esque magazine imploring Christians to branch out from the missionary position, or even giving more 'holy' names to existing, erm, approaches. Anyhoo...

However, I get rather irate when 'God' and 'Christianity' are treated as synonymous. This may be a case of miscommunication, but there is certainly a very virulent vein of thought in which Christians either forget that other people have a claim on God as well, or in which they are so arrogant that of course their idea of God is the only true conception and they, and they only, have the right to use the term 'God'.

*Did you notice that I was keeping an eye out for how it would affect my research? That would be because I have finally come to an agreement with the funding troll - that he can follow me around for the next four years shouting in my ear that I owe him money - in order that I can do my Masters. Induction happened on Thursday and I start back proper tomorrow. Eek!

Repressed Ranting

***Warning - the following post deals with some pretty traumatic subject matter. Not all are recommended to read on.***

I like to see myself as a vaguely rational person who will accept different viewpoints and embraces academic debates. Without debate we will never learn anything, so I will listen to you, even if I then spend 20 minutes banging the desk and yelping 'ABSOLUTELY NOT' across the room.

That was before Palmer.

Over a fruitful cup of tea with Nikki today, we discussed my list of academics I have issues with. I didn't need to think very long to figure out who hits the number 1 spot : Craig Palmer.

Back in the days of yore, when younger, inexperienced me shivered in the cold December wind, working tirelessly on le dissertation by candlelight... Ok, back in December when I was researching chapter 1 of my dissertation - the legal status of women in Pakistan (specifically in terms of rape legislation) since Zia's Islamization programme was introduced - I was searching through books and journals to familiarize myself with the main debates in what I came to call 'rape theory'.

Susan Brownmillar's argument that rape is an exercise in power has been at the pinnacle of debates for over 30 years, revolutionising how we thought about rape as an act of not purely sexual significance.

Continuing the debate, Palmer contributed the most heinous aberration I have ever had the misfortune to come across. 'Twelve Reasons Why Rape is Not Sexually Motivated: A Skeptical Examination' set out to put the sex back in rape. (Accessible at http://www.jstor.org.ezproxy.webfeat.lib.ed.ac.uk/stable/3812897) I am open to debates on the 'rape as power' issue, but I was not prepared for the onslaught that befell me. I will not give a full exposition of why I disliked the article, but I will highlight a few of the worst lines.

Top of the list has to be the brilliantly phrased "Only 15 to 20 per cent of rape victims required hospital treatment for physical injuries" and "only 22.7% ended up inflicting "very severe injury". That's right, only over one fifth of those psychologically traumatised, physically abused and socially stigmatised are left with very severe injury. Almost disappointing, right? If only there was a way to ensure that the attack stayed with them for life, affecting their relationships, causing lasting physical damage... Oh wait, that already does happen. Had this been a quote from a lecture I attended, I would not threaten to punch him in the face. No, I'd actually punch him in the face as hard as I could. But it's OK 'cos he isn't guaranteed to end up in the hospital so he won't be really hurt.

Other gems include: dismissing an argument because it "hinges on the assumption that a males' sexual desire is exhausted by a single "outlet"". But it's all OK because there are prostitutes and pornography for that sort of thing, which obviously isn't about the power inherent in objectification of women, oh no.

The military personnel who specifically planned attacks as a way of displaying power over the enemy weren't involved in power games. As Brownmiller argued:

Rape is considered by the people of a defeated nation to be part of the enemy’s conscious

effort to destroy them [...] men appropriate the rape of “their women” as part of their own male

anguish of defeat [...] rape by a conqueror is compelling evidence of the conquered’s status of

masculine impotence. Defense of women has long been a hallmark of masculine pride as possession

of women has been a hallmark of masculine success [...] The body of a raped woman becomes a

ceremonial battlefield, a parade ground for the victor’s trooping of the colors. (Brownmiller, 1986:38)

Rape as punishment can be sexual. Yay for rapists - exert power over women and get a kick out of it (!)

Sex doesn't need to include consideration for the other party's arousal. Good-o, because forcing a woman who clearly doesn't want it is all terribly sexual and not at all about power.

Date rape isn't really rape.

Men might experience sexual dysfunction because they are worried about punishment. What a shame. If only they weren't forcing themselves on someone else.

Rape is to be expected in the summer, y'know, with all those women out and about flaunting their bodies.

"only excessive force is a possible indication of violent motivation on the part of the rapist" - obviously rape isn't forceful at all. Oh wait, isn't that part of the blooming definition?!

Oh yeah, and only pretty people get raped. How comforting.

A well deserved number one spot on both my 'most hated academic' and 'most likely to get a punch in the face' lists - well done Craig Palmer.

The Gestation of the Mind

What an awesome title. I'm pretty proud of it, and I definitely think there should be a book with that title. Maybe there already is. Who knows?

Anyhoo, before this descends into a dull stream of consciousness, I'll get to my point. Way back in January, I set myself a few personal goals. Go on holiday (alas, one I have failed so far!), see Chris perform (achieved, and it was as awesome as I'd expected - go see for yourself in whatever he pops up in next) and to read at least 15 books. I thought 15 would be a manageable target, but one that would stop me from taking the easy route and watching some TV or what have you.

Nine months later, my mind has been conditioned, challenged and changed by the books I've read. Using my handy 'Read in 2010' list on Visual Bookshelf, I found the results interesting and thought I'd share.

(Not necessarily in chronological order and not including books purely consulted with the goal of completing my degree)

1. Women of Algiers in their Apartments - Assia Djebar
Unbelievably awesome. Back in 2009, I did a course grandly entitled 'Harems, Homes and Streets: Gender and Space in Middle Eastern Literature' and in it we touched on this. Intrigued, I read the entire book and was so challenged, moved and affected by it that I wrote an essay based on it for another class. A collection of short stories focussing on Algerian women during the Algerian-French war, Djebar critiques both the colonialist and native Algerian patriarchal representations of women, dramatically reappropriating Algerian women's bodies for Algerian women.

"Whispering, Baya translated for Anne, while she was rubbing her breasts with her hands; it was then the Frenchwoman stopped asking questions, looking at the wasted bodies around her in fascination. Arms of a masseuse, standing straight up on a marble slab, then kneeling down, encircling the body of a bather, who's face, belly, and breasts were crushed against the stone, her hair a reddish mass, her shoulders dripping with trails of wattery henna.

The masseuse opened her lips halfway, showing golden teeth that shimmered; her long, pendulous breasts were crisscrossed with little veins all the way to the tips. Under that light that came down in oblique rays from the skylight, her villager's face, aged before it's time, was turning into the mask of an oriental sorceress. The silver pendants she was wearing made a clanging sound every time her shoulders and knotted arms came sliding down on the neck and further down to the breasts of her bather [...] Stopping to catch her breath, then slowly pouring a cup of hot water over her naked bronze back, while hoarse sighs were exhaled below her."

Wow. Every time I read that section, I think about the complex interplay between Orientalist, and particularly artistic representations of 'Eastern women' in the hammam as a sensual, erotic and exotic experience, compared to the morgue-like undertones and hyper-realism of the passage. Just read it.

2. The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

I struggled to see the hype with this one to be honest. It's a little like Zadie Smith's 'On Beauty', a nice enough book, but rather boring. The narrative style felt a little too smug-aren't-I-fabulous-breaking-away-from-traditional-prose but sticking a letter head at the start of the chapter is hardly ground-breaking.

3.The Satantic Verses - Salman Rushdie

Yeah. This was a bit of a trek to get through, especially during the stresses and strains of the final semester of 4th year. I definitely recommend reading it in as few sittings as possible, because the protracted way I read meant that I was getting rather confused about the plot! I do see where the controversy came from, although it wasn't as shocking as I was expecting. I suppose expecting shock is a bit of a paradox anyway though.

4. Yes Man - Danny Wallace

A bit of a departure from the previous 3 books, it was a nice light laugh which didn't require too much brainpower. Worth it for the wee snippet about his meeting with a monk.

5. The Parasites - Daphne du Maurier.

I love du Maurier, I truly do. 'Rebecca' will forever stand as the novel of my teenage years and I aim to collect all of du Maurier's works. The Parasites was ostensibly a rather dull reminiscing of childhood memories, but the disconcerting doubts raised in the reader's minds as we are brought deeper and deeper into the family's world is very, very well done.

6. The Sacraments and the Bible - Phil Layton

A wee book that said what I thought it would in defending the Salvation Army's position on the sacraments against what many would argue is contrary to Biblical teaching. Worth 30 mins.

7. The Alchemist - Paul Coelho

A graduation gift and a very quick read, I found the thinly veiled self-help philosophy a little grating and would rather the book would pick the plot of self-help and run with it rather than the absurd conflation of the two.

8. The Arabian Nights

A long read, at over 800 pages it gave the narrative frame of Sheherezade using her story-telling skills to save her live, along with a selection of the tales. I loved the mixture of genres on offer, there are moralistic tales, dramatic tales, comedic tales, adventure tales... I'm still intrigued as to the conflicting representations of women in the story and the tales will stay with me.

9. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

Recommended by Camilla, I had steadfastly steered clear of WH because it was written by a Bronte. Way back in 6th year, I compared the contributions of du Maurier's 'Rebecca' and Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre' to the feminist canon. 'Rebecca' was awesome, gave a portrayal of a woman consistently beaten down by men and a woman who will do anything possible, in life or in death, to get one up on a man. 'Jane Eyre' was an interminable whine of appalling monologues, ridiculous coincidences and the always vomit-inducing 'readers, I married him' comment.

As such, I had avoided the Bronte's like the plague, but I finally decided to rise above and goodness me I am glad. A decent plot, a good mystery, one heck of a romance and not a single character made teeth-achingly sweet. This was a proper romance, violent, passionate, confusing...

10. Appropriating Gender: Women's Activism and Politicized Religion in South Asia - Patricia Jeffrey

The start of my NLS journey, 'Appropriating Gender' hammered home the sexualized and gendered way women, and particularly Muslim women, relate to their nations and states. Women's sexuality is controlled and utilized for the purposes of the state. Fascinating.

11. May on Motors - James May

A quick and easy read, with a few giggles.

12. The Limits of Bodily Integrity (Law, Justice and Power) - Ruth A. Miller'

Particularly fascinating to read after 'Appropriating Gender' this book opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking. Her discussion of Foucauldian biopolitics, with particular reference to the womb, blew my mind. I don't necessarily agree with everything she said, but it has given me a whole new framework in which to consider my chosen topic.

13. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life - Emile Durkheim

Having studied for 4 years, certain theorists will keep coming back like a case of herpes. Instead of fighting it, I decided to actually consider these theories in their full texts rather than as the detached and abstract notions I knew them as. Durkheim has obviously been hugely influential within RS, and I do feel like I have more of a grip on his ideas now, but I found the fact that I was rather unprepared for the book to spend so much time detailing how the Australian tribes demonstrate this (with what we now know to be flawed anthropological information) to be rather tiresome and made completion of this book take FOREVER.

14. The Ritual Process - Victor Turner

As above, really. Liminality is one of the more classic theories I still consider relevant and useful, although there was nothing really new to learn by reading the entire text.

15. Toward a Feminist Theory of the State - Catharine MacKinnon

Love, love, LOVE a thousand times over. My last blog about squeeworthy moments - credit belongs to this lady. Her examination of how sexuality is socially constructed and the mass ignorance surrounding this has led to a number of discussions about how we define sexuality, and has prompted a serious consideration of my own definition. Her piercing critique of rape law as 'with force without consent' has transformed my way of thinking about rape as a crime and built up rage against the male legislators who will continue to write laws which are illogical and dangerous, as well as perpetuating the notion that there is a clear and objective line between licit sexual activity and rape is something which I will struggle with for years to come.

Well, there you go - you've seen how my ideas have been built up from a cluster of confused beginnings, to a proper thesis-baby (though still not ready to survive on paper) as well as the lighter, or at least non-academic, relief I've awarded myself with.

Things That Make Me Squee...

Tea. Obviously.

Cake. Also pretty obvious.

Not being homeless. Definitely loving that.

Family.

Friends.

Finding someone with a theory which complements my own thoughts. As fun as persistently debunking phenomenology as a dangerous and irrelevant methodology was, it's also good to find someone with whom I can agree. I was a bit worried that I had a massively skewed mind, because I'd spent so long reading articles, books and theories that were, for want of a better term, complete rubbish.

In my research over the Summer I've actively had to stop myself from loudly squeeing in the National Library of Scotland at some of the work I've come across. Consent theory is so flawed that definitions of consensual sex are misleading and dangerous for women? Yep, agree with that. Foucauldian biopolitical understandings of the womb have contributed to the extended control women's bodies are subjected to? Pretty self-evident if you ask me. Definitions of sexuality have been formulated on male terms, further entrenching women's inferior position at even the most intimate level and making rape impossible to define and hence to legislate against? Absolutely true.

No funding troll can strangle the academic squee within.

Funding Saga Part II: The Troll Shows Who is Boss

Yeah, the troll won. There was a tiny moment where I had him confused, a bit like when Ron sticks his wand up the troll's nostril in Harry Potter, but I was defeated. Well, given a bit of bruising.

The 5 grand fees of Edinburgh require one to dig a hole of debt so deep that my thesis would be burned up in the heat of the Earth's core, so that was out. Then came a last minute 'what-the-heck' application to Cardiff Uni for their course looking at Islam in Contemporary Britain. Although it was a little outside what I had anticipated, the content of the course looked relevant (a dirty word to some academics) and purposeful. A short while later, one ridiculously nice e-mail from a lecturer there and the quickest scholarship application you ever did see, I was shortlisted and had an interview in Cardiff. A day-trip ensued (never, ever, EVER take a day-trip to Wales folkies. Just don't. Make it a proper holiday) which entailed four hours in the city, including the time set aside for interview and I left sure that I had been unsuccessful.

I was right.

However, the feedback from the scholarship committee was so positive and constructive that I feel the 5am start wasn't wasted. Yes it means I can't study this year and that makes me sad. Really, really sad. But I am only 21 after all, and I haven't experienced life outwith full-time education since I was 4 so this opportunity could be rather formative. I will work away at my job (which I am *loving*), take the advice of the committee and get some practical voluntary experience with the Muslim community under my belt (something I'm really excited about!) and, best of all, I will study in my own time. This way I can mature my ideas in the direction I want to take them, and see where that all ends up for funding applications early next year!

On the topic of my self-study, I had a bit of an epiphany this week when I was in the NLS. It was one of those moments where I get so excited that it actually requires a concerted effort to not squee very loudly at the fact that what this person is saying is so true, is something I've often thought and fits into my work perfectly! Yay!

Troll 1; Gemma 0

The Number 41 bus - crusher of dreams. Toddling off to Cramond Beach the other day (a lovely wee excursion which makes me yearn for the Ugie and Lido at home) I received a phone call from the bank about the meeting I was due to have yesterday. Questions were asked. Did I have my degree certificate, what about a permanent full time job offer? Erm, no. This loan is to fund my postgrad.

Oh.

Is that in Law or Medicine?

Nope.

Oh, in that case, I'm afraid we can't help you.

Yep, a loan isn't even an option now.

Am I disappointed? I was. Now I am furious.

(Disclaimer: I am really, really, REALLY mad right now, so this may be a bit disjointed and manic. That is the state of my mind right now. Also, apologies if this veers into the territory of 'painful lives' - surely the most horrific literary classification since 'chick lit' - I do realize that my life is a heck of a lot better than many other's.)

17 years. 17 years of ploughing all of my energies into learning, from learning which way the 'G' in my name should face at the age of 4 to 21 year old me considering how modern Muslim feminist literature utilises the methodology of Foucauldian inscription in order to re-appropriate female Muslims' ownership of their own bodies in comparison to Orientalist artwork and Muslim patriarchal assertions. The horrific jobs, memories of being elbow deep in horse mackerel (aka Tom Jones), the many hours spent trudging the rain splattered streets of Edinburgh with 80 Italian students in tow, always attempting to earn enough to get by. All of it was worth it to get to the point where I can study my proposed thesis - Muslim responses to sexual violence. A thesis so practical that it hurts me to see that it still isn't good enough to garner me any funding. I'm not the brightest, no, but surely a very good 2:1 (with a straight A final semester) from an excellent university, studying that topic should manage to fund their masters somehow. Even a student loan for goodness sake?

But no.

The government will espouse the importance of education, and particularly higher education until they are blue in the face. They will set ridiculous targets of 50% of young people in higher education, but they will not provide any infrastructure for postgraduate courses.

Education continues to be an elite institution. Oh, we can be fooled by the supposedly 'universal' further and higher education, and the sprinkling of scholarships allow one to be fooled that it is a meritocracy. But, fundamentally, lack of financial backing is a weight dragging every low-income student down. At undergraduate level, the necessity of taking up paid employment decreases the available studying time and often means that extracurricular activities are a dream that lies far from reach. Opportunities for travel are limited, meaning that knowledge of other cultures is at a premium - obviously not brilliant for a Religious Studies student. There is a desperate game of catch up where they need to learn so much in their own time to reach the level where their better educated fellow students. My first lecture at New College - peppered with 'deontology' and 'Kant's categorical imperative' left me feeling like someone had punched me in the face with a fuzzy, floral velveteen Ethicist with illusions of academic grandeur.

And then the postgraduate abyss where only law and medicine are seen as acceptable reasons to continue studying, where the disdain for arts and humanities, makes my sensitive wee soul cry.

Oh to want a normal job...

What do you do when you meet a Troll?

I've always thought of myself as a pretty straightforward kinda gal. Decisions come along, tap me on the shoulder and I consider all options before making my choice. Alas, it would seem that this quality has deserted me when most required.

About a year and a half ago, I had a niggle. Just under the surface something was brewing that would blow my plans out of the water. Instead of the sensible route of teaching, which suited me so well, I wanted MORE. Yup, I got a bit greedy and wanted to learn more, to teach at a higher lever; in short, I wanted to do a postgrad.

Dun dun DUN!

After months of suppressing these desires, I began to make progress in making my dream happen. I researched options, funding issues and consulted with staff. Applications happened. Offers were made. It was all going swimmingly and I'd made it to the bridge to postgrad land. Alas, under that bridge lived the Funding Troll(tm). Funding Troll(tm) is grumpy, greedy and (in my head anyway) green monster lurking to suck the momentum out of potential postgrads. For both courses I had one main source of funding, which would cover fees and living costs. Time ticked by and I found that I didn't receive either of these, so I was left with a rather unpalatable decision - continue with my plans and self fund through loans (aka selling one's soul to the bank) or find a job (which in the current climate is basically selling one's soul to a private corporation).

So I considered.

I thought.

I debated.

I asked for advice.

And what was I left with? A decision as hard as it was in the first place.

I am currently leaning towards the debt option, but that all lies in the hands of the bank advisor I'm off to see on Wednesday.

(EEK!)