Nature vs Man (An actually rather serious post)

I've been thinking about Titanic quite a lot recently. (The film and the actual real life sad situation) It makes me feel sad because of how many people died but also because I think one of these days all the Hollywood films about robots taking over the world, will come true. We are always building bigger, digging deeper, spending more and more, flying higher (I'm talking about you, Felix Baumgartner, jumping out of Outer Space, I ask you!) and just trying to be the biggest Mothers on the planet. But really, mountains will always dwarf ships, seas will always drown reservoirs, outer space will always swallow up rocket ships, and the sun will always melt robots down to molten iron.

 I wrote a poem about the Titanic and nature's response to the tragedy. It's a bit serious actually, for once. Check me out Ma, I'm growing up!

This is it:

Since Eden, man has tried his best

To put nature to the test

Our arrogance and vanity

Has blinkered us, so we can't see

That nature was, is and will be

The victor of eternity

 

And still we try and try again

To prove ourselves as Big Strong Men

"We've got the tools! We've got the braun!"

Industrialism has been born

 

Britain became Great overnight

and taught the world from its great heights

how to use Nature's resources

to replace hard work and horses

 

The Big Men said "Let's build a ship!

We'll build it huge and build it quick!"

But as we know, that fateful night

Nature won an epic fight

 

"Unsinkable" the mammoth boat

It's only given order; "Float",

Sank into the icy sea

And nature claimed it's steel trophy

 

"Let that be a lesson" Nature said

"Don't let your arrogance cloud your head

Never again try and take me on"

Maybe one day we'll learn our lesson.

 

 

The End.

Love Hannan :)

 

 

Remember Remember the 5th of November...

Remember Remember the 5th November,

Fireworks, apples and gloves. 

So this is why, the lights in the sky

Have become one of my favourite loves...

Last week was Bonfire Night, one of my favourite nights of the year. Unfortunately I had a puking condition that meant I couldn't leave the house so I missed it. But no worry everyone, I sure made up for it the following Friday at the Bonfire that happens at work each year. More about that later...

BANG! WHEEE! WHIZZ! SHCREEEEEE!

When I was a teeny weeny Hannan, I hated loud things, and things that gave me a fright, and so Bonfire Night was a nightmare for me. I remember going to Lancaster Firework show for a few years in a row and sitting on Optimus Dad's shoulders with my fingers crammed in my ears, trying to enjoy the pretty colours. I'd look around at people so I could see what their faces looked like and then I could copy their delight, thus fooling my family who would look at me and say "Nyawwww, look at Hannan having a wonderful time!" Not so much....

As I grew a bit more grown up I began to enjoy Fireworks a bit more, even going as far as genuinely smiling when they whizzed up into the sky, but still with fingers crammed firmly into ears. I'd partake in a toffee apple, a bit of that black toffee and maybe a hot dog but constantly on guard for the tell tale 'phut' sound of a banger being let off or the 'wheeeeeeee' just before the explosion.

Once at a small Bonfire party in my friend's garden, one of the fireworks fell over just after it had been lit and shot towards us all! My Dad, the incredible Optimus Dad, stepped on the firework and trapped it onto the ground so that it exploded UNDER HIS FOOT! What a hero! And even better, it turned out, was that it was a perfectly timed accident! He just happened to put his foot down on a firework as it exploded, thus saving us all. Hurray!

Fireworks do freak me out though. I don't like the idea that they're sitting there, waiting in that box, their tummies filled up with explosives. I know not if they realise their fate whilst they sit smiling in the shops, looking so pretty, and (now don't laugh) I almost feel bad for them as they shoot up with their long bums on fire and explode in the sky whilst people below admire their executions with 'ooooh's and 'ahhhhhhh's. A bit sick if you ask me.

I got over this on Friday though, and had a wonderful time. I had a tasty hot dog and held hands with The Boy as we watched the beautiful display of explosions. He kept warning me that he saw an episode of '999' once where a child got a firework in the eye, and so whenever anything touched his face, like a leaf, or my hair, or the wind, we had to deal with "Oh, OH, a FIREWORK has gone into my EYE!" The romantic exerience was also slightly marred by The Boy's less than animated commentary of the entire show.

[Imagine the following said in a low, droning, monotone voice because he was cold and tired]

"Yeah I like them ones...they're blue so I like them...And that one was quite good but it wasn't blue. Those one's make a noise. Those one's are big aren't they, that one was blue...I liked it. I like the ones that crackle...although they're not blue. I can see blue best of all..."

And so on. However, despite the cold, and the commentary, and the lack of toffee apples (grrrr) and the constant reassurance that "No fireworks have gone in your eye, The Boy...." I had a great night and there was no one else I'd rather have spent the evening with than him.

(And I didn't put my fingers in my ear once...!)

Hope you all had a safe and happy Bonfire Night and remember, NEVER play with gunpowder. Or you'll end up like Guy Fawkes.

Love Hannan xoxo

How bathtime evolved in my world

Any committed Hannan readers will know that I spent a few blogs talking about my fears before I was rudely interrupted by an engagement that has sent me spinning and whirling beautifully into a sea of organza, lace, bridal magazines and wedding fayres (not fairs, as I was disappointed to find out. Not one single ride or candy floss station...) Now, when The Boy read my last blog (entitled ""This has gone on long enough...!") he said how nice it was that I was writing about happy upbeat things like smiles and weddings instead of morbid deadly things like fears and sadness. So that got my brain going round... I am going to do a new series all about things I like! (This is the first one by the way, and it's about to start so shhh...)

I have recently developed a dependance upon something other than carbs and Taylor Swift... It's comforting and relaxing like ol' Swifty, yet it also makes me feel calm and peaceful, just like carbs do. I'm obsessed with having a big ol' bubble bath.

I think one of the reasons this has become a love of mine is that the shower at Big Oaks is rubbish. It doesn't stand up on it's own for one, you have to hold the shower head above your head to wash your hair, and then even when you're doing that the water coming out is so weak and feeble. It'd be easier (and less tiring) to invite the local youths into my bathroom to spit on my hair to wash out the bubbles. That's how sad it is. So to distract myself from this sad situation I have been having lovely baths. When I'm surrounded by warm strawberry bubbles I don't mind so much holding the shower head in the air to wash my mopatop.

I have also rediscovered a young love of mine...Matey bubble bath! He always looks so jolly and imagine my delight when I discovered that in the past 20 years he has found a girlfriend! A delightfully pink mermaid sort of character who sits on my windowsill smiling at me as I relax.

When I was a younger Hannan, I enjoyed bath time enourmously. My sister Jaja would sit in the bath with me, (which was OK back in the day, I don't let her in my baths any more) and we would play a game which involved putting as much shampoo on each others hair as possible and moulding our hair into different shapes. My personal faves were the 'punk' and 'court jester'. It always ended in tears though, when one or both of us would get some shampoo inside our eyes. Even though a certain shampoo boasted 'no more tears', there always were.

When I was a bit more grown-up I was allowed a bath on my own...without Jaja! How exciting. What a grown up girl I am now. Alas, I got my hot:cold ratio muddled and when I stepped in it was freeeeeeeeeeeeeezing cold and I would have to let most of the water out and start again. But of course by then the tank had emptied and no more hot water was to be had. I learnt a hard lesson that day.

When I got to uni and lived in Acorn Cottage with a Not-So-Crazy-But-Still-Bizzarre-Meg it became a tricky game to play did bathtime because there were at least 3 other people in the house as well as me. What would happen frequently is I'd wait and wait to have a bath until everyone was either out, or busy and then I'd spend ages running it to the perfect temperature (remember how I learnt that lesson?) with bubbles, bath bombs, candles, Enya's Orinoco Flow on full blast, all lovely and relaxing. At last it's bath time and as I'd sink into the bubbles and begin unwinding there would come knocking on the door and someone (usually my friend Ol' King) would say "Let me in, I need a wee". And I'd say "No way! I've only just got in!" and he'd say "Oh ok, that's fine, I'll just go wee in your bedroom sink." And so I'd scream and say "FINE! COME IN BUT YOU DON'T LOOK AT ME AND YOU BE QUICK" There were so many bubbles that privacy wasn't an issue and then he'd sneak in and do a wee... right there during bath time. Ridiculous.

Anyway, it's all become OK now because I've learnt how to run the perfect temperature bath, I don't need to wash my hair with the dripping shower head, and Crazy Meg is out. So I'm going to go and have a bath. and I can finally relax because Ol' King lives with The Boy now so there's no way he can come in and ruin bathtime with a wee.

Love Hannan
xxxxxxx