Thursday, 3 February 2011

..On the Occurrence of Alice..


Once upon a time, in a far off land..




The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 
“Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” he asked.
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”



And so it begins..

It’s been a long while coming..

Bubbling juuust under the surface.. That itsy-bisty teeny-weeny little niggling feeling, gnawing away at you.. The one you just can’t seem to shake..

Until today..

I have finalllllly set up my own blog, after months of reading beauuuuuuuutifully-written and painstakingly-crafted blogs of other people’s immmmmmense genius and intellect, I plucked up the courage, from some far off, elusive and unknowable place, to write a blog all of my own. Some of you may “pah-hah” and “tee-hee” at my needing to ‘pluck up’ the courage, but in my response to you (namely “meh”) let me tell you, to share the ins and outs and cogs and spokes of the innermost workings of my mind, takes great courage!

This blog, as you maybe realising, is not about anything in particular, per se, just about things that interest me, and perhaps, interest you.. Beauty, literature, random musings, perhaps a trickle of fashion, will all feature on here – all sorts!

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”


The reason I decided to write this blog, is partly to do with having a worthwhile outlet for my English Literature degree – my mind, I have been assured, works in a fascinating way, and often the thoughts in my head read like Austen or Shakespeare, or on more ice-creamy, duvet-y, cold-y days, more like Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries. It is that whole sensibility notion – I LOVE IT. The romance, the femininity, the wonder of not just those authors, but say, Lewis Carroll, whose nonsensical Alice in Wonderland quite frankly describes the workings of my very own mind:

Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”


On the occurrence of Alice: She really is just quite marvellous.


Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass

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