the prettiest star

Laugh now, but one day we'll be in charge.

Friday, May 20

Anywhere but here.


Why do you think, from June to September, English people in droves fall over each other for cheap holidays to the Med and North Africa? Why? Because England sucks in summer. We were deprived of a summer last year. We had so many miserable barbies in the garage, drinking our beer and staring at the sky, willing the clouds to part and drown us in sunshine.

Every year we escape to Spain or Greece and enjoy the 'culture' of cheap drinks, passing out and roasting yourself silly. I've already been to Gran Canaria this year, but because of stupid car insurance, rent, furnishing an entire house, and other ridiculous costs, I can't afford to see a beach until at least September. Four months. I need a beach right now. And no, it can't be Cornwall, or, god forbid, Skegness, because they are icky and dirty.

Sometimes I just get so sick of this island. It's so rainy and depressing. There is no way in hell I'm living here when I'm older. I don't think anyone will be. All my friends talk about, is going to Morroco, Spain, Portugal, Greece, anywhere but here. It hurts that all these countries are so damn close as well. Morroco, where I'd love to visit most, is only a few hours flight.

When I was 17, I went to Corfu, a very beautiful greek island. Apart from the usual mayhem, it was amazing to be surrounded by such natural beauty. The sea only came up to our waist for miles, and little fishes swam around you. The water was really warm and totally clear. It's my idea of paradise, just being in an amazing beach. Look.

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Last summer I spent six weeks travelling around Venezuela. I slept outside, on the beach, under the stars, and have never been happier. I ate fish that I caught myself and went to the rainforest, the dessert, the Andes, and all along the north coast with my cousin. Sometimes I would get upset, and my cousin assumed I just missed home. I was upset because I could have lived there. I will never know what possesed my mother to live in England. Look where she grew up.

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Yeah she actually grew up right next to that beach. The carribean coast was on her doorstep. My grandfather was a fisherman and they practically lived on the beach. It is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, yet she swapped it for grey, gloomy England. My cousins, of all ages, come home from work or school, and spent all their evenings on the beach, drinking beer, talking, and weekends are spent having fiestas. This is the sunset. You can't see clearly, but when the sun is on the horizon, you can she the shadows of the Andes in Colombia. The boat belongs to my Uncle.

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I don't care how much money you could earn abroad, look at it! Part of the reason why I want to be a journalist is so that I can travel. I don't care if it pays shit, give me a beach and I'm happy. People that live in the Med, and in Venezuela, live a lot longer because they aren't as wound up as the English. They don't abuse their bodies with horrible food and stress, they just live.

England is not going to deprive me of summers for much longer than I can help it. I won't let this island make me old before my time like it does to everyone else. It can't give me any dreams. I have slept under the light-polluted cold skies of England, and under the shadow of the rainforest of Venezuela. I have a choice. I can be like everyone else and spent the rest of my life working 50 weeks of the year in a dark stuffy office for the sake of a two week's sun in Spain. Or I can leave this island and spend the rest of my life living the holiday.