The strangeness of strangers: D.I.Y. philosophy on everyday life.

Ever found yourself waving at strangers from the window of a train? There shouldn't be anything weird about it, - surely friendliness is a natural human trait? Yet communicating with somebody you'll never see again presents an oddly resonant conundrum. Poignant in its affectionate simplicity, waving is perhaps a novelty associated with childhood, yet even the exchange of passing comments with unknown adult faces somehow conflicts with my feeling of security. "Lovely weather isn't it?" we might say with predictable irony, or maybe we'll pluck up the courage to ask the time. But of course, adult interaction with strangers is a far different affair, embodying all the sophisticated cynicism that accompanies becoming a grown-up. Even though we won't see these people again, yet still are we restrained by a polite code of conduct - converting innocent interaction into a conservative minimum.
Is it just me or does it make you uneasy to reflect on such trivial instances - wondering that the representation of 'I' in that moment is only a minimalist portrayal? The impression one receives is that strangers' communication is merely a forced expression of civility, so why should I worry how to present myself? Perhaps it's this condensing of personality into a brief role in the life of somebody else that is so disorientating. It sounds selfish, but we must accept that for each of us, 'I' is the centre of the universe. And so in compromising our identity for a second, 'I' is stripped of its usual complexity and contradiction, and we are transformed into a minute stereotype. All 'I' am in that moment is "the girl on the train".
In fact, it sounds strangely liberating, - to be able to cast off our preoccupations of self. Our heightened sense of individuation is only a survival instinct after all, so disposing of these illusions of grandeur with which we indulge ourselves can only be refreshing. In such an instance we achieve objectivity, something that interaction with friends and family does not allow us, becoming only the sum of our polite cliched words. I travel often, and as I became used to the repeated well-mannered remarks of fellow passengers, I felt compelled to say something shocking or irregular in order to break what I perceived as a social taboo. Remaining a mystery however, keeps 'I' the secret sanctity it should be, for strangers for the most part remain strangers.

European Festivals: Plan your Summer now!

Festivals. Basically the funnest time you can have if you do it properly. Music you love (with any luck), at the most massive party of the year. And if you're bored of the threat of being washed away at Glastonbury, sick of Reading's invasion of wasted thirteen-year olds, I advise leaving the country might be the best plan of action. Not that Britain is alone guilty of making the festival of today into a commercialised husk of the celebration it once was, it's just that Europe does one thing that the Brits don't quite achieve: organisation.
At Amsterdam's popular Lowlands Festival last year, I was amazed by the stable paths and walkways lining the vast campsite. Well planned, this one is of course not on the flood plain, so mud was reduced to a minimum, and various trees acted as scenic landmarks in what's usually an abyss of canvas. Impressing especially, was the permanent stance of the toilet block in all it's concrete glory. Instead of hovering over a hole in a rotting plank above a stinking pit, Holland's each individual cubicle flushed convincingly within a structure substantial enough to withstand the usual seeping sewage from the surrounding ground. You can even shower for a small fee - hot water for as long as you want, and because the toilets succeed, there's no danger of worrying you're showering in somebody else's piss dungeon. Or worse.
And because everything's so reassuringly foreign, it's harder to be bothered by the fact you're spending so much money on a predictable surround of adverts and merchandise. As well as beer and take-away food (the essentials), the traditional Dutch offer the additional alternative of fresh milk and breakfast, - a healthy consolation for the inevitably inflated prices. Lowlands festival has even implemented its own currency: the "Munten", which cheekily obscures this problem by detaching us from how much we're spending. And if there wasn't enough to do already, adjoining the festival there is even a theme park, "Walibi World" - no wonder the tickets say "A Campingflight to Lowlands Paradise". It's even got bigger rides than Thorpe Park.
After being considerably impressed by Lowlands, my high hopes for Europe were sustained by recommendations of places to go next, the first being Benicassim Festival near sunny Barcelona, Spain. Affectionately named "Glasto del Sol" for the excess of sunshine, this festival boasts a whole five days of music (largely indie pop and electronica) rivalling the typical 3 days of music we can expect at English festivals. The campsite is open for 8 days in total and culminates with a 24 hour beach party on the final day: a festival and beach holiday rolled into one.
One of the really excellent things about attending more festivals abroad is that you get to hear about places you usually wouldn't think of visiting. Pictured above, Sziget Festival, Budapest is now firmly on my to-do list, after hearing the Lowlands' folk rave about it. Sziget means 'island' in Hungarian, and is aptly named as the entire festival is situated on an island on a river in northern Budapest. Only a brief train or tram ride away from the thriving city centre, you can see the sights and do the festival all in one weekend. It's quite a bit cheaper than the average English festival too, the campsite is open for 7 days surrounding the music weekend, tickets priced at just 120 euros.
And if you think this sounds like drastic action when all you want to do is get drunk in the daytime, just remember there really isn't as much effort involved as there seems. I'm no great planner, just book up some cheap flights while they're still going spare (before our crashing economy forces air tax to soar above the student budget) and you can obtain the ticket at your leisure. Unlike Glastonbury, you don't have to register months in advance, only to have your hopes dashed in a panic of frenzied telephone and internet bashing.
After tickets go on sale, the average European festival takes about 2 months to sell out: not because they're any less popular, but impressively boast colossal capacities. Considering that Reading festival usually sells out in less than an hour, (abundantly to blood-sucking touts) this is a ridiculous imposition of stress we can all do without, especially in what is essentially an endeavour to chill out! If you start spreading the word now, there's a good chance some one who enjoys planning will organise it for you anyway. Go!

Amanda Palmer and Jason Webley: the unsung heroes reviewed.

Who killed Amanda Palmer? The name of her solo album introduced with a bang her striking production at Koko, Camden last night, a captivating set from start to finish. Being dramatically conveyed by human props about the stage owing to an unfortunate broken foot only highlighted the success of her singular dominance, detached from her usual Dresden Dolls counterpart. As she energetically wrought a night of alternative music with a cabaret twist from the centrepiece keyboard, a thoroughly involved audience cheered raucously along despite it being barely 9pm. If it was audience enthusiam that made this performance, Palmer could only thank her close friend and show opener; Jason Webley, who single-handedly induced an entire audience to spin around twelve times with their fingers in the air, as a quick-fix to soberness. This hero accordianist even created his own choir by dividing the audience and encouraging a war of sound between the two halves.
It was while surveying the dizzy spinning rabble from a balcony above that I realised that by taking my glasses off I could achieve the same inebriated effect. If dizziness was a factor of being drunk, (a state I was yet to achieve) then so was blurred vision - a revelation I felt excitedly compelled to communicate with my newly found champions. Such an incentive would be received gladly by the entertainers, we were soon to learn, as buckets inviting public opinion (and tips) circulated Koko's exit. The fact that Webley's home address is even detailed on the back of his album cover urging fans to "send me stuff" highlights the emphasis placed on audience interaction. I was amazed by the sheer entertainment value infused into the concert: the performers' effort seemed to reach beyond their existing fans to capture new ones.
Palmer's final dynamic encore demonstrates her dedication to give it her all to the gig's absolute conclusion. The show's consistent parasol motif transforms ironically into a mocked rendition of Rhianna's "Umbrella" complete with the comedy of arse shaking and stripping off. Finishing with a caricature representing everything her own individual sound is not, we are reminded of the value of this unique act, a satisfaction we'd wonder at longer if it wasn't for growing anticipation of the eternal toilet queue we are about to be faced with. And thus marks the sign of a successful night, - no one present has wanted to miss a minute of it.

Newsround: bringing some optimism to the news!

What's your favourite news broadcast? Is it the legitimately satisfying BBC news perhaps? Or maybe you're a conventional rebel and enjoy the illusion of pushing boundaries with a bit of Channel 4 news? If watching ITV entertains you, then no doubt you'll prefer ITV news' stagnant approach, deceptively akin to the BBC yet sluggish and easier on the eye. I'll tell you what's even easier on the eye if you'll permit me to dismiss any viewers of five news or even sky news as frauds. My suggestion may seek to diminish our perspective on the gory glory of reality even further, but seriously - have you ever watched Newsround?
There seems to be an indulgent irony about hearing world events spelt out to you in layman's terms, and the persistent "oh dear" attitude to the continual death and destruction reports is a reassuringly optimistic advance on our grim daily news dose. Admittedly there is an obvious lack of economics, politics and that foreboding finality; the weather - yet these supplements only feed the cynicism running through our veins. Are we deluding ourselves that being well-informed about the world makes us intelligent voters?
It's a shame that the overriding perception of the world is one seeking to destroy all hope; the fleeting relief enjoyed by those sick of the mature layout know that Newsround fills that void for a reason. Lets face it, children of today don't watch it - so why has it survived this long if not to cater for those who aren't bent on sobering their mood? Even if it's just an apparetif to harsh reality, give kids' news a chance why don't you?