To be alone.

I've decided to write a blog on my Desert Island Discs. For those of you who have never listened to the programme here is the idea:
You are marooned on an uninhabited desert island by yourself. You are allowed to take eight records with you. (Presumably you are also given a record player. There is no electricity on this Island so it's probably solar powered or something. Anyway, that doesn't really matter because the whole thing is hypothetical.) You are given a copy of the Bible, the complete works of Shakespeare and are allowed to take another book of your choosing. You can take one luxury item. (But it can't be of any use in helping you to escape said island.) Basically a celebrity talks to Kirsty Young for a bit and tells her about their choices. I will be the celebrity, Siri will be Kirsty and you will be the listeners.

Allow me to preface the rest of this post with an acknowledgement: I'd be fucked on a desert island. (Certainly metaphorically and depending on the wildlife there possibly physically as well.) MS aside I know nothing about survival/DIY/being in the wild. I never went to Scouts (Bit gay really isn't it?), I have never been camping (I don't think being off your face in a tent at a festival counts.) and I'd probably go into meltdown if I couldn't have two showers a day. With MS, until I get the DBS I can't even tie my shoe laces; how could I make knots with rope? I'm also about as strong as a decaf coffee so will hardly be Tarzan swinging around between the trees. I will ignore this and play along.

First, the songs I would take. I have quite an eclectic taste in music but it is far from cool. Also, my choices would probably change on a daily basis. In fact, if someone was going to abandon me on a desert island the least I would want in return is my full music library.
Here's what I'd choose right now:
1. Strobe by Deadmau5. This is one of my favourite tracks. It's quite a long and mellow EDM record but it gets a little livelier towards the end.
2. Yellow by Coldplay. I imagine there would be a lot of stars to see from this Island and it would be nice to think that they are shining for me. Also, yellow is my favourite colour.
3. Go Your On Way by Fleetwood Mac. I'll go which ever way I like thank you, it's my island.
4. Rebel Rebel by David Bowie. I love this song.
5. Pickup Truck by Kings of Leon. Not many people know anything about this song; it's the last track on probably their least well received album. I think its brilliant and it reminds me of times gone by.
6. Bom Bom by Sam and the Womp. It's a terrible song and I love it. It reminds me of running and I'd need a totally stupid record to cheer me up.
7. This is what you came for by Calvin Harris. "And what the fuck was that?" I'd ask myself.
8. Nightswimming by R.E.M. Marooned on a desert island I'd definitely do a bit of skinny-dipping. I'd probably just live naked in fact. (You're all welcome for that mental image.)
Actually, sod the rules. I'm taking Coconut Skins by Damien Rice as well.

Next up, literature. For a start I'd swap the complete works of Shakespeare for the Ladybird adult book series. That way I could get useful advice on dating, the wife and even Hipsters should I ever escape the island. Also, I don't want the Bible; I wouldn't read it but would probably feel a little superstitious about burning it to start a fire. (And I couldn't start the fire anyway.) Equally, if I stumbled across some high-quality drugs to smoke on the island I wouldn't feel comfortable using the Bible as skins either. (And even without the tremors I've never been able to roll.) I'm assuming I'd be allowed to take a big magnifier to read the books with or else this whole paragraph is a waste of time.

I think I would take a copy of Jane Eyre. I've already read half of it and I have a quote from the novel on my arm so I should finish it really. I heard the quote years ago and really liked it. I really only started the book to make sure Jane wasn't some psychopathic murderer for fear that I would appear to be equally psychopathic should I have a quote from her tattooed onto my body.

Finally, the luxury item. This is a difficult one. I'd maybe take a mirror so that whenever I get down I could look into it and remind myself of how pretty I am to cheer myself up. Or I might take some green teabags so that my skin looked healthy for whenever I was rescued. (Vanity is one of my greatest assets. I'm assuming toothbrush, toothpaste, toiletries etc. are not classed as luxury items. They are necessities; whoever is sending me to this island would have to be a monster were they not to give me these things.) Tom Hanks seemed to enjoy being stranded with Wilson the volleyball so that might be a good choice. In reality, having already accepted the fact I wouldn't last long, I'd probably take a few grams of Mandy. That way I could have a magical few hours (Probably the best night of my life, like every other time.), overdose and then move on to the next life. (This will be the last reference I make to drugs in my blogs. I am beginning the search for employment  and should any possible recruiter read this they'd probably be a little concerned. On which note I should point out what a responsible, hard-working and talented young man I am. I haven't taken drugs for many years so they need not worry. No fun drugs anyway. But as me and Abbe agreed, it's not like ecstasy has ever given anyone curly hair is it?)

Kirsty ends the show by asking the celebrity which record they would choose if they were allowed to take only one. I'd probably respond with, "Then why have we just talked about eight records?!" If I were feeling a little more corporative then I'd choose Strobe by Deadmau5; given my choice of luxury item I'd appreciate something with a bit of base and a decent drop.

And I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all, I wish it for myself.

Happy 2017! I'm happy it's the new year, are you? (Rhetorical question. This is my blog so you don't really get a say.) 2016 was rubbish. So was 2015. And 2014. For the sake of optimism I've decided to be superstitious and take comfort in the thought that bad luck comes in threes and therefore this year is set to be tremendous. (My superstitions end there though. Being superstitious is a lot like Tinder; you pick and choose which superstitions appeal to you/are convenient at the time and once they've served their purpose you can forget about them.)

I've decided 2017 is the year I will become a real adult. I'll get a job, regain my independence and maybe even learn when it is appropriate to make innuendo laden/flirtatious remarks and more importantly when it isn't. (That last one is just a maybe though. And learning doesn't necessarily mean I will put it into practice.) (Anyway a girl likes to hear if she's got a good bum, right?) Other 'real adult' regularities I'd like to achieve include wearing a suit (preferably not to court), getting a coffee to go because I'm really busy and need to be somewhere, and getting really drunk with workmates on a Friday after work.

In an ideal world (Which this isn't by the way. Need proof? Natalie Portman is married. And I'm not her husband.) the following would occur (and regardless of the rights and wrong is of this world these are my goals for 2017):
1. I get a full time job which I enjoy.
2. The DBS is successful and my tremors become manageable allowing me to live independently.
3. I move out of my parents home.
4. I get a girlfriend. And keep her. Even better if it's not against her will. (Obviously she's pretty. In order of importance: pretty, willing.)
That's just some of the stuff that would happen in an ideal world. Obviously world peace, an end to famine and probably the cancellation of Brexit and demise of Trump would happen too. (Democracy is like most ideals: a nice idea but totally fucking impractical.)

My year starts with a throwback to 2016: a hospital appointment in London tomorrow. It's for a review of the bone marrow transplant. I expect it will be a five minute conversation that could easily have taken place over the phone but they just want to see my pretty face as well.

After that there are a few nights out planned (including my switch on party which will feature nothing to actually switch on because the DBS was delayed but that's no reason to cancel seeing friends and getting drunk) and I plan on making a start to my list of goals. January blues? Not for me, not this year.

(The title is a lyric from Songbird by Fleetwood Mac. It's a beautiful song although admittedly not in keeping with the tongue in cheek tone of this post. And it's true; I wish all of you the best but most of all I want to enjoy my life and all it has to offer. If that makes me a bastard then a bastard I am.)