Idle

Idle

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Idle Magazine

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Editor Chloe Ray for feedback or general interest c.f.ray@hotmail.co.uk Words by Chelsea Thomson, Fraser Nunn, Millie Bath, Sean Baker, Illustrations by Danni Jervis, Jessica Bennett, Alex Small, Aleesha Nandrha, Jess Hinsley, Charlotte Oakley, Hannah Blackman-Kurz, Jamie Tobin Photos by Juan Pablo Tavera, Hollie Ward, Maria Pereira, Susannah Van Der Zaag, Stephen Edwards, Daniel Farò.

Printed by Ex Why Zed

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Contents

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Editors note Can I call this an Editors note?

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Ode to my mother A mothers will and determination

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Never ignore a bee Keep them in the loop

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A tissue? Bless you Cold and Flu remedies

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Making space cool again Chris Hadfield becomes a hero

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Whose bread is baked best?

Battle of the breads

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Stephen Edwards The inspiration from Donegal

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Lost and found Kleenex is overrated, anyway.

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George at his Best Long-haired flies were heroes

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Daniel Farò Meeting friends online can be a good thing

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We all have a dream to weave Adorned in tartan

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Ginger cake Deliciously good for your soul

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Heroes in Berlin Bowie has a spring-clean

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Bright side of life A grandpa can teach you more than checkers

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Maria Pereira A house full of treasures

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Susannah Van Der Zaag One girls adventures

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Give them tea and cake Interview with an old school mate

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Juan Pablo Taverna My musings

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Heroism in the cinema It's all worthwhile

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We can be heroes A little kindness goes a long way

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Welcome to the first issue of Idle

Welcome to the first issue of Idle Words by Chloe Ray

Can I call this an Editor's note?

My mother isn’t necessarily a hero but someone I look up to a lot.

A DIY single parent, she took on a fair few challenges at a young age. She made me grow down rather than grow up, or perhaps she just slowed down the process (So many young girls grow up too quickly nowadays).

At the age of 21, I still climb trees, throw mud and hide in cardboard boxes. I see wide streams as a long leap challenge and race clouds across fields. She fed and bathed me every day and every night and taught me 3 key points every child, teen and adult should remember through their life; it isn’t a dress rehearsal, if you mess things up just keep going. Don’t put all your happiness into the hands of others– you’re the only one who will pick you up when you fall. Finally, my personal favourite; if you want something done, do it yourself!

So I took her “can do” and “will do” approach and strapped down the idea of this magazine. I’ve spoken to some wonderful people from across the world and got a glimpse into what drives them to do the things they love. We spoke of their heroes and who inspired them to travel, draw, write and live. Although they didn’t realise it, they also taught me a few things. There’s never a wasted journey, there’s always a question to be asked and make as many memories as we can, because they will keep us warm in our old age.

I hope this issue will inspire you as it has inspired me.

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Never ignore a bee Words and illustration by Charlotte Oakley

Charlotte shares her inspirations and tells us why you should keep bees in the loop.

My childhood home fuelled my inspiration to draw. I come from a 400 year old hamlet in the depths of the Cotswolds. It’s a little place lost in time, surrounded by woodland and wild flowers. I’m fascinated by how things were done in years gone by, the rituals and spiritual beliefs we once lived our lives by.

My Dad inspired me to create this piece.

He keeps bees in a little wood behind the house and for as long as I can remember whilst tending to the bees he would chat to them telling them of the latest news. It was believed years ago that the bee's would be hurt if they weren't kept informed, it could lead to the hive swarming or even dying. These little rituals that we forget as modern life ensues, I believe are good to be remembered.

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Making space cool again Words and image by Jessica Bennett

Two red raw knees later and Chris Hadfield became a hero.

Chris Hadfield is the guy who made space cool again. Astronauts from the sixties were the ultimate heroes, images of the early space race and men walking on the moon were the stuff kids grow up dreaming to be. Nowadays the crackling grey footage of those yesterdays have become just another one of those things that people know about and that has happened. Not many people get uncontrollably excited about that any more. The first and most important factor for this is remembering the bad stuff. From the eighties right through until the start of the twenty-first century space programme history were scattered with great failures. The disintegration of Space Shuttle ‘Challenger’ during take-off in 1986 and the ‘Columbia’ re-entry disaster in 2003 saw a very drastic and negative change of perception towards the space programmes.

All the while money is a big factor. Falling out between space and the general public can be blamed on just not knowing. People like to know where their tax money goes to they want to feel like it’s being put to good use and when they don’t see the results quick or first hand it’s easy to assume it must be a is a waste of time. Since the sixties over 500 men and women have been into space, but not many are remembered positively, and most of them are not individually remembered by name.

After being accidentally pushed into a ditch full of stinging nettles in the dark, on a caravan holiday, when I was seven (in 1999) I knew I wanted to be an astronaut. I had no idea of public perception but I just knew it. I was trying to look through binoculars at Venus under the guidance of my Dad (who then

subsequently in the dark accidentally pushed me into the nettles and then laughed uncontrollably about it) I went to bed that night with puffy eyes from crying and red raw knees inspired and excited about space. Not something a girl at seven was usually excited about. But as I got older I was moving onto a bigger school with exams and scary adult life responsibilities I learnt quickly not only was I bad at all kinds of sciences but also useless at calculating numbers. By the time career choices where being made I knew a career as an astronaut was most certainly out of the question. With that my interest dwindled.

But here’s where Chris Hadfield comes in, during a long duration stay on board the International Space Station as part of Expedition 35 in 2012/13 Hadfield posted videos, answered questions and tweeted from space. Like many, before the infamous Bowie cover, I had no idea who he was. I had no perception of what people actually did in the ‘I.S.S’ (or in space for that matter). But when your mum shouts from the bottom of the stairs something about ‘look at this bloke’ and ‘moustache’ and waffling about ‘singing David Bowie songs in space’ it’s sure to grab your attention. It grabbed the attention of me and apparently a whole load of other people too including over 1,000,000 Twitter followers and over 20 million hits on Youtube. The public perception of space was rekindled. Watching Chris Hadfield singing his rendition of ‘Space Oddity’ on the news standing next to my mum in the kitchen, whilst pots and pans for dinner boiled over, a little piece of that seven year old excitement was rekindled.

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Stephen Edwards Words and image by Stephen Edwards

Why Stephen found Donegal so inspiring.

I took these photographs in County Donegal in Ireland. For one week a year, I stay in a house on the coast here with my family.

It's a welcomed break away from the city where I live and a nice chance to do some exploring. The coast here is beautiful so most days we go on walks and climbs, discovering new beaches and taking in ocean views. I'm in love with the colours of the coast and countryside, which really inspires me to take photographs while I'm in this environment. My brother and girlfriend, who are featured in this series, share my enthusiasm for this place. It's not often we all get to spend time together so I'm always keen to capture the best moments, creating new sentimental images in the process.

See more of Stephens work and visit stephen-edwards.tumblr.com

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George at his Best Words by Sean Baker, image by Alex Small

My childhood hero was one of those long-haired flies on the pitch.

The only hero for any self-respecting boy in the late 60s and early 70s was the footballer George Best.

Georgie wasn’t just the greatest footballer in Europe at that time (second only to Pele in the world – better than Pele? Maybe!), he was also a dashing, strikingly attractive, twinkle-eyed man with a good quote never far from his lips (‘I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered’.). I worshipped him and yearned to be like him. I would practice every day in my back garden, desperate to emulate his ball skills and his running style.

In winter he would run with his sleeves pulled down over his hands, his fingers gripping the cuffs into his palms and I did that too. My hair was worn Georgie Bestlong – dark wavy locks that engulfed my ears meaning I spent half my childhood being mistaken for a girl. Did I care? Of course not! If Georgie Best had long hair, then so would I. Did it help me get girls?

Absolutely – the prettiest girl at primary school was my girlfriend for three years, and that was down to Georgie.

Once, when I was about eight years old,

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I gazed in wonder at photographs, in my mother’s Woman’s Own, of his ultramodern bachelor pad in Cheshire. I longed to live in that house when I was old enough, even going so far as to try to persuade my sceptical friends that we could all live in it together once we were grown up and still in a gang.

I only ever saw him play once. West Ham v Manchester United, Easter, early 70's.

The ground was packed, so packed that my father and me and my father’s cousin, who lived a stone’s throw from the ground, could only just squeeze in at the very back of the vast terrace behind one goal. I spent the entire game sat on Dad’s shoulders, my hand above my head gripping a girder. The players were small as flies in red and white or claret/blue and white. Flies buzzing hither and thither over a pitch made mud over the previous eight months of a season nearing its end.

Georgie didn’t score that day, but I had seen him play. That was enough.

I cried with Georgie once. I was watching Match of the Day and he was sent off for retaliating against a clogging defender who

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had decided the only way to stop him was to scythe him down. For the umpteenth time in his career, Georgie had bamboozled a defender and the defender could only kick him or be made to look the talentless fool he was. Georgie thumped him, a punch of rage and frustration. And got sent off for it.

He cried as he left the field and I, watching him, cried as well.

The best goal I ever saw him score? Played so often on television, it is a permanent fixture in my memory. Glorious late summer sunshine and Georgie picks up the ball with most of the Sheffield United team between him and the goal. He considers for a moment, feints to the left, an almost imperceptible drop of the shoulder to throw the first opponent, before starting a run to the right with a gathering storm of defenders in pursuit. But of course they can’t catch him, all they can do is force

him wide, away from the goal, towards the corner. Five, six players in pursuit, but even as they are chasing him, he begins to arc towards the goal and from a far corner of the penalty box, he fires a shot across the goal, across the goalkeeper, across the chasing pack and the ball hits the net just inside the post. He accepts the acclaim, absorbed. With his head towards the heavens, his eyes closed, his fists clenched by his sides, he drinks in the roar of Old Trafford, drinks it like a man quenching a thirst.

Later in life, rather like Paul Gascoigne today, he became almost as well known for his drinking and a chaotic private life as he was for his unique abilities with a football.

But for a few stellar years in his late teens and early twenties, he paraded a talent that has rarely been matched before or since.

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We all have a dream to weave Words by Chloe Ray, images by Hollie Ward

I had a chat with weaver Hollie Ward and got to know a bit more about her weaving and why she loves it so much.

What made you take up weaving? Did someone inspire you to pick it up or was it something you’d seen before?

I guess I’ve always been fascinated by fabric, when I was younger I always wanted the piece of clothing or bedding that had the most vibrant pattern and colours. Then as I hit my early teens I became obsessed with the punk era – meaning my room was adorned in tartan. As I started college I became very interested in dyeing and printing fabric using techniques like devore, discharge and screen printing and using various dyeing techniques. During my foundation degree I was then introduced into weaving and just loved it. The technical skill behind it intrigued me and made me want to learn more so when applying for my degree I made sure I applied for courses that incorporated weaving and various

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other fabric production techniques such as dyeing, knitting and embroidery.

What type of machinery do you prefer to use? Do you have a machine at home?

I use all types of machinery new and old, I own one tabletop loom that I bought second hand off eBay for £80. It’s called “The Hawkhurst Loom” made by Edwards, Sandrock. In Hawkhurst in Kent, the time I’m unsure of. My dad is amazing at creating things and made my warping frame for my loom and also makes me tapestry frames of all sizes. Whilst at university I used machinery ranging from industrial jacquard looms, to table top looms over 100 years old to brand new digital ARM looms that are completely computerized. I think it’s really important to use a variety of machinery. The table top loom I use isn’t really practical in comparison to modern models but it’s a stunning piece of machinery that feels magnificent to use and works just as well.

You’ve done a few workshops and exhibitions in the past year; tell us what you’re up to at the moment?

I’m currently living in Edinburgh working with a weaver called

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James Donald, it’s really interesting being able to work together and see how we do things differently and learn from each other. Then from 25th April - 6th May I will have my work on show and be in residence at Burton Agnes Hall in Driffield (East Yorkshire) then also during that time I will be taking on a placement at an Interior Design Studio for a few months. All very exciting!

I’ve noticed from your pieces that you like to use a lot of Tartan, is there a reason for that?

Tartan is just something I’ve always had a personal love for; I find it incredibly aesthetically pleasing and really enjoying planning the production of it. One of the main things to take into consideration is the blending of the colours and choosing a variety that all complement each other. Once the colours are woven they all intertwine and create various shades within the fabric which I find really intriguing. I find the stripes and variations of scale very pleasing to work with.

Do you get a lot of commissions or are most of your pieces purely for your own pleasure?

I’ve recently taken on a few private commissions and I’m happy to take on any ideas people have but at the minute I’m wanting to

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work on refining my work and products and working through a variety of ideas I have floating around in my head. I think it’s really important to take some personal time to reflect on your work and make sure you’re creating what you want to create. It’s very easy to fall into a routine but I want to keep my work fresh and innovative.

What are you creating right now?

I’ve recently completed an upholstery course so have been working on upcycling some pieces of furniture and trying out some fabrics for interiors. I’m also working more on my tapestry skills and creating some large scale wall hangings and hoping to learn some more techniques.

When you start a new piece, is it hard to get into a rhythm?

I love starting new pieces and find it refreshing but some days I stand at my loom and can’t focus. Sometimes it’s because I have too many other ideas floating around in my head so I take time out and write in one of my million notebooks and work through those ideas. But once I get going it’s just like second nature.

See more of Hollie's work at hollieward.co.uk

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Heroes in Berlin Words and image by Aleesha Nandrha

Bowie had a spring-clean and changed his ways.

Bowie came up in an era where musicians and bands really seemed to have had a hand in the way they presented themselves visually. This could have been in the form of album covers, music videos and stage costumes. As an illustrator this is something that has always been important and interesting to me, as I grew up being handed the 12” cover of a record while my Dad went to put it on the turntable. I would study it and study it while the music played. Bowie has always been exciting to me visually – the mismatched eyes, orange hair (sometimes blonde) hair, make-up and lightning bolts, and the sharp suits. He always looks cool.

In particular, the fact that Bowie always took parts of what is inspirational to him and put it together in his work is something that I find particularly interesting. I also want it to be something that I strive to do in my own practise. For example, in 1977

Bowie recorded the album ‘Heroes’, the second album in his “Berlin Trilogy”.

The ‘Heroes’ album cover demonstrates how Bowie was involved in presenting his ideas and influences to inform his own album covers and also the covers of those he collaborated with. The German painter and printmaker, Erich Heckel, inspired the cover for ‘Heroes’ and in particular the piece ‘Roquariol’ (1917) – at the time Bowie was recording ‘Heroes’ he was living and working with Iggy Pop in Berlin. While they were in Berlin Bowie produced Iggy’s album ‘The Idiot’ (1977) and the album cover for it was also inspired by the same Heckel piece.

When looked at together the album covers work as a pair. Even things such as Ziggy Stardust’s red hair and outfits, designed by Kansai Yamamoto, were created because Bowie was being influenced by the visual elements of traditional Kabuki Theatre in Japan.

Any of the attachments I have to certain musicians/bands tend to be because their music has been the frame for memories in my life – this is certainly the case with Bowie. The most recent example being in January 2013, I was in Berlin with my Mum to celebrate my 20th Birthday. On the morning of the 8th January (the day before my own birthday) we woke up and put the news channel on. The main headline: David Bowie releases first song in 10 years on his 66th birthday. The song itself a slow, reminiscent affair – about Berlin! I can remember my Mum and I looking at each other in disbelief.

Even after being silent for 10 years, Bowie has moved and changed – they way he looks, the way he sounds, but he is still able to surprise people and still has the ability to remain this mysterious, enigmatic creature.

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“The two of them purchased an old warehouse, which they transformed into a home inspired by their travels together.�

Maria Pereira, page 31

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Maria Pereira Words by Maria Pereira

Grandparents fill their homes with treasures too, not just memories.

These photos were inspired by both of my grandparents, they are a huge part of my artistic identity. Unfortunately my grandfather is not with us anymore, but every summer I visit my grandmother in Portugal and stay with her for a few days.

My work is heavily influenced by the knowledge she shares with me, when I get the chance to visit her in her home.

My grandfather was a famous architect in Macau, China, and my grandmother an interior designer. The two of them purchased an old warehouse that they transformed into a home inspired by their travels together.

This summer I had the opportunity to photograph it. The idea of these photos was to capture my identity through their house. This was done through placements of objects I feel represent myself such as my backpack on their table or photographing a painting we both have in our homes (she bought a smaller version just for me to keep!).

See more of Maria’s work at flickr.com/photos/echte/

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Give them tea and cake Interview by Chloe Ray, images by Jess Hinsley

A semi-spontaneous trip to Cheltenham to get to know an old school friend a little better.

From the start of this magazine I’d decided that I wanted to visit Jess and have a good old catch up with her and her work. Jess moved away to Cheltenham in 2011 and began her degree in Illustration. Two years of not being able to see her face to face and a little worried it would be awkward, I decided to pay her a visit. However, in Cheltenham train station car park, there she was, waiting for me in her car. I jumped into the seat and the conversation fluidly took off. That’s how it stayed for the next two days. While I was there we drank a lot of tea, baked a cake (ate lots of them too) and sampled some very fine cider in an Ale house. At that point both of us were quite merry and we decided it was the right time to ask her some questions.

Tell us a bit about yourself.

I grew up in the south of England in the seaside town of Worthing and I still live there with my mum, my twin sister and our King Charles spaniel, Jasper. But at the moment, because of my degree, I live in Cheltenham.

What made you decide to do a degree in Illustration?

Well I did art in school and college but never knew what I wanted to do with it so that I could make a career out of it. Since I can remember I’ve loved stories and children’s books and things like

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that. So it was always there and I think eventually I just realized it and put the two togther. I was really influenced by Beatrix Potter, because of our mutual love for watercolour and animals. So I guess that was something that partly made me think, “Maybe I should take Illustration as a degree”. I don’t know, it’s hard to pinpoint it.

Do you find you’re inspired easily to get drawing?

Yes, now I draw all the time and draw anything really. I’ll see something I like and then draw it. Eventually I’ll end up making a character out of it and develop it until I think it’s good enough. For me it’s so much fun. I find having friends that are also Illustrators really motivates me to get drawing. We’re all in the same boat so there’s no judging between us. We can just sit down for hours in dead silence and sketch.

You use mainly watercolour paints in your illustrations, was that a conscious decision?

At school I tried a number of things like acrylic paints but I found that watercolours worked with me. It was so natural and I think, now, it suits my style. I also find it the most fun to paint with so I enjoy it a lot more.

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Would you break out of your comfort zone?

Not for any other paint, no. I wouldn’t cheat on watercolour! Maybe I would use pencil, but watercolour is just good for me, it suits me…

So I just use that.

You gave us one of your favourite recipes (page 64), would you call yourself a baker extraordinaire?

Yes of course! No I’m just kidding. Maybe I’m not an extraordinaire but I would say a passionate baker. My friends love that I bake, mainly so that they can try it. But I think from my experience of having a friend that bakes, it’s pretty cool, they make the tastiest things.

Where did your passion for baking come from?

I think it started with my grandma. She used to teach, what was then called ‘Domestic Science’, at a disability school near Watford years ago.

So after the age of 3, every time we’d visit my grandma, we would bake cakes. I’ve always been baking. The amount of baking I did started to increase and then suddenly I found Mary Berry and it took off from there. Mary Berry is a sassy woman, I want to be like her!

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What’s your average day like?

Usually I get up, walk to university and work in the studio until half six and then come home and relax. The perfect situation, or what I’d like to tell everyone, is that I come home after a long day of work and I bake. Then head to the pub with my friends and sketch all night. But in all honesty I come home and collapse on the sofa.

So working at university is more tiring than at home?

Possibly, but you feel like you accomplish so much more than just sitting in your bedroom all day. You need a real working space where you can chat and be around other illustrators. I think that’s really important for artists to be in that environment because you get motivated to work. If I had to give advice to new students I would have to tell them to make the use of that space and the people in it too. Because of this I wake up every morning and I look forward to starting my day again. I’m excited to think that this will one day be my career. I really love it.

Where do you see yourself in a year’s time?

I’m planning to move to Bristol with my boyfriend, I’ve heard great things about the art and illustration scene there. But I’m hoping

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Page 31; The Worry Jar, page 33; University of Gloucestershire, page 34; The Willow Tree, page 35; Lavender Fields notebook.

to work part time in a bakery and then illustrate for the rest of the time. Ideally I’d like to make a career just from illustration, basically live off it and do it all the time. Although, I think it would be nice to combine my two passions, hey, I could make a recipe book.

Back to what I was saying, I plan to do some promotional work on Etsy. I’d like to sell my art prints, tote bags, greetings cards and of course aprons. There are also places like the London Book Fair; that’s great to go to because I can take my portfolio or a dummy book.

But I think social media is wonderful for young designers at the moment, so I think I’ll start there first.

If you’d like to see more of Jess’ work visit her website jesshinsley.com or her (brand new) Etsy shop etsy.com/shop/JessHinsley.

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Heroism in Cinema Words and image by Danni Jervis

Why Danni hasn’t given up hope...

The day my dad introduced me to Star Wars and Indiana Jones, with the words: “You will like this” may have been a mistake, at least for my empty wallet today.

Growing up with George Lucas and Steven Spielberg films opened my imagination to the limitless capabilities of film and from there my journey into Geekhood began.

As a person today I would describe myself as the ultimate nerd, finding excitement in hero films, comics and science fiction.

Films have always been my muse, and the majority of films that I enjoyed in my childhood have had an element of fantasy or adventure. As I have gotten older I find a new sense of appreciation for Lucas/ Spielberg’s works, using the cinema scope to aid my own illustrative work. The escapism of Lucas films fuelled my need to create (and my dream to one day be a Jedi master), while Spielberg’s representation of

war inspired my passion for history.

The adrenaline that is caused by watching these big, adventure epics where the hero gets to travel (Indiana Jones) has motivated me to set off on my own journey to New Zealand in the following year.

The passion of these directors is constant motivation for me to keep creating art and to enjoy the luxury of entertainment today.

When I am struggling with a particular piece of work or I am not enjoying it, I try to remember how Lucas essentially created his own company to combat the creative differences that the film companies had with Star Wars. While Steven Spielberg still achieved his degree over 30 years after leaving college by submitting Schindler’s List as his final project, it just shows the success doesn’t have to come in the conventional way and it doesn’t always happen straight away.

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Here are two quotes from the directors that I often turn to when I need a good piece of advice: “The secret is not to give up hope. It’s very hard not to because if you’re really doing something worthwhile I think you will be pushed to the brink of hopelessness before you come through the other side.” - George Lucas.

This is often the case with my own work, so its reassuring to know someone who is extremely successful has experienced similar situations.

“All of us every single year, we’re a different person. I don’t think we’re the same person all our lives.” -Steven Spielberg Additionally I can relate to what Spielberg is saying because every year I can look back on the work I produce, even each month and realise I am still learning and changing.

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Ode to my mother Words by Millie Bath, image by Susannah Van Der Zaag

A mothers will and determination, passed down to a new generation.

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They say as girls grow up they become more and more like their mothers. For me that would be the greatest gift ageing can give me, except maybe an end to my cold feet which is apparently hormonal. My mother is the greatest role model I have ever had or could ever wish for. If someone told me I was getting more like my mother every day I’d thank them for such a wonderful compliment.

I don’t always agree with her, I don’t always enjoy her company, but my mother is the single greatest embodiment of never giving up that I have ever met.

I have watched her battle through a divorce, breast cancer, redundancy, setting up two business herself, unheated houses, re-diagnosis with cancer, a paralysed throat, and arthritis.

Throughout that time her optimism, but more likely her brave face have been a continued reassurance and a trail blazing ode to perseverance.

Now and then I hear sketchy accounts of her life before I entered.

From them I can tell she didn’t have it any easier before I came along.

My grandmother, her mother, was anorexic and limited her children’s food consumption, her parents divorced and she barely saw her father and his new family, she barely ever talks about her “wicked Step-father” but she refuses to listen to the song “Le Freak” because it was his favourite song and reminds her of him.

I vaguely remember a story of her and her sister sneaking out, and climbing in through windows and his anger problems. She couldn’t get enough money to train as an interior designer like she wanted to but she managed to get a job in an interiors shop which promptly closed down.

She met and married my Dad, finally getting away from her mother and step-father and somehow got a surprisingly good job for her age, training people in something or other, when she contracted ME, Myalgic Encephalopathy, and became so tired she couldn’t leave her bed for months. In the end she had to because

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they needed her income but by then she had lost her training job.

My mum says you never really get over ME and she is still dealing with the ramifications of it today.

It sounds like the flickering of long dead players on turn of the century black and white reels. I’m appalled at my own lack of knowledge of my mother’s life before I came along but I have no doubt that she stuck with it with the same mixture of optimism, guts and zeal that I see in her today.

My mother has not had the easiest life yet she has always made sure that my brother and I come first. Even though walking hurts her now, because of her arthritis, she still brings me tea in the morning when I come back from university. She still does all of the washing that my brother leaves behind and eats leftovers all week so that my brother can have fresh food when he comes to stay. My mum once told me that if we crashed on a desert island and there was no food, I could eat her. This is a funny and dramatic rendition of the self-sacrifice I watch her execute every day.

Just writing this article has made me realise that what I love best about myself, my unflagging brave face, I recognise absolutely as one of my mother’s traits. Whether its genetics or nurture, I am thrilled that I’ve inherited it from her. When I do reach my low and I lower my mask of a brave face, my Mum is who I turn to, in person or just in my thoughts as her positive attitude and belief that good thoughts will breed good things and that everything will turn out right in the end, is just the boost and guide that I need.

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“My mum once told me that if we crashed on a desert island and there was no food, I could eat her.�

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A tissue? Bless you Tested and illustrated by Chloe Ray

I asked a few friends for their weird and wonderful remedies to help tackle the common cold. No matter how odd they were, I was willing to give them a go to cure my sniffles.

So what did my test teach me? Do whatever makes you happy and whatever makes you feel a bit better when you're under the weather!

Sage Tea Melanie "I remember 'Tigerbalm' against aching muscles and breathing problems.

And sage. Sage tea, sage coughdrops, sage balm... A lot of sage."

Luckily I'm a big tea drinker and I'm happy to try any type of tea. So I jumped at this one. It's lovely and warming, like a hug. Just what you want when you're feeling down in the dumps. Did it work? Unfortunately not... 5/10.

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Goose grease and brown paper Angel "Goose grease and brown paper on your chest (like a vest) good for bad chests and coughs according to my nana and chicken soup (though that apparently can cure anything if your Jewish - shame I'm vegan)."

No comment... 1/10. Sorry Angel.

Chilli Reggie "Drink chilli powder and hot water scares your illness away!"

I enjoyed the idea of it and saw Reggie's logic. My hot drink had an awful fiery taste but it certainly worked on my blocked nose.

7/10

Onions Abbey "Someone once told my mum to eat a raw onion like an apple for colds and she did it. She said it was pretty scarring.

But I usually put half an onion on a plate in my room when I have the flu, because apparently it just soaks up all the germs.

Then I throw it away in the morning."

It was another logical idea that I could see working. If you can get past the teary eyes and the stinging, it can open up your chest and leave you breathing freely.

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Whose bread is baked best?

Words and images by Chloe Ray

Down a sleepy cul-de-sac, my Granddad and I battled it out to find who baked the best bread.

Searching my brains for heroes, inspirations and influences left me feeling a little rattled and in want of some quiet time back in Sussex. So I took a trip back home to see my family and expected the usual affair, dinner with my Mother, dinner with my Grandparents and maybe a dog walk or two. However this trip turned out differently. The usual happened but on the day after my return my Granddad and I got into a discussion about bread making.

Which process lead to a tastier result, a bread maker that does all of the “making” for you or the traditional laborious activity of making it yourself? My Granddad gave a logical approach and believed the bread maker was better, it was quick and easy and he could “get back to what I’m supposed to be doing” while it baked. But I was rooting for the old way of making bread. Getting your hands dirty and as my Granddad put it “cleaning underneath your nails”.

Both of us were curious to find out, so after a rushed trip to the supermarket we began our comparison of loaves.

My Granddad bought his bread machine a few years ago and has never looked at another supermarket loaf since. The machine itself looked simple and easy to use (although it came with a rather large instruction manual) and his part only took 10 minutes. He was neat and precise. Things such as yeast should never touch any liquid before mixing came up and somewhat confused me.

My technique of chucking everything together and hoping for the best was swiftly thrown out of the window.

He confessed he’d never tried this particular recipe before – the Rapid Bake option – and was accustomed to using the 4-hour bake selection. Time wasn’t on our side so we went for the quicker choice and baking was whittled down to just 2 hours. A few buttons were pressed and the bread maker clattered into life. His job was done and he disappeared into the garden and left me to start my dough.

I found my recipe while I hid down aisle 11 of the supermarket,

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scared of being accused as a hypocrite, I searched for any recipe on my smart phone. What happened to my argument for the traditional way? It came back shortly, don’t worry.

To start with I had to make a well in the flour and added half of my water and all of the yeast, sugar and salt. Then slowly brought in the flour from the inside of the well. When my mixture became a porridge consistency I had to add the rest of the water and brought all of the flour together. At this point I was allowed to be more aggressive with the mixture but quite frankly I was worried I’d decorate my grandparents kitchen with wet dough. So my next step was to knead it, put it into a bowl and hide it away for 30 minutes.

Half an hour had passed and I was shocked to find my dough had not doubled but almost tripled in size. Again I had to knead the dough and push the air out but this time I put it on a tray and prodded it into a shape that scarcely represented a farmhouse loaf. I put it back into the cupboard and left it for an hour and 30 minutes while my Granddads machine was still whirling away in the corner.

An hour and a half drifted by with plenty of Earl Grey and watching my Granddads handy work happening in the garden and my dough was ready for the oven. Only 30 minutes was needed for it to sound hollow when tapped and the crust turn golden brown.

Both our loaves were ready and the time had come to test them.

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Traditional loaf Crust: The crust was quite strong and gave a good crunch. The added flour (for authenticity) was a bit overwhelming.

Bread: The centre was dense and extremely filling. One slice was enough before it had you reaching for water. It tasted a bit odd, but the fact that I forgot to put salt in it might have had something to do with it. Nevertheless it was thick enough to hold a topping well.

Fun Factor: It was time consuming and I couldn’t do it on a regular basis. Plus kneading is tiring! That being said it got rid of some of my stress and worries. I recommend making bread instead of seeing a shrink – bread doesn’t ask frustrating questions and it costs less too.

Ingredients: 500g strong bread flour 300ml tepid water 1 ½ × 7g sachet dried yeast 1 tbsp sugar ½ tbsp sea salt flour (for dusting)

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Ingredients: 400g strong bread flour 210ml warm milk 1 sachet dried yeast 1tbsp sugar 1tsp sea salt 1 beaten egg

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Bread machine loaf Crust: The crust was soft and barely there, but if that floats your boat then it was ace.

Bread: Salt was added to this and it paid off. It tasted like shop bought bread in fact it tasted better than that. The texture itself was light, airy and went down easily. My only quibble is that you could taste the dried milk powder, perhaps that’s just my over sensitive taste buds.

Fun Factor: There wasn’t anything fun about it, apart from the fact that my Granddad could leave it alone and do better things with his afternoon.

Even after lashings of butter, mustard, mayonnaise, ham and avocado we couldn’t decide which loaf was better. So we gracefully agreed both had done a superb job and left it as that.

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Lost and found Words and illustration by Hannah BlackmanKurz

Kleenex is overrated, anyway.

Molly is a four-legged creature that we found thirteen years ago, lost on a motorway. She is my childhood hero.

She is little in size but the most courageous dog around. Even though old age has caught up with her – and she has finally inherited that old wet dog smell – she still sees herself as protector of the house and family.

I won’t forget the times she would act as my barrier from the outside world. She was a living cushion to let me rest my head against and a tissue of scruffy fur to soak up my tears. She would listen to my nonsense when no one else would and she'd crawl into my bed to make sure none of the night terrors came into my dreams.

As I grow older her duties have become smaller and nowadays she is found taunting cats with her queenly presence, or soaking up the sunrays in the garden – as a royal should.

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Daniel Farò Words and images by Daniel Farò

Sometimes meeting friends online is a good thing.

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These pictures are from a road trip I took a few weeks ago. I went with a friend I met just a year ago, who shares the same passion for photography with me.

I’ll explain how we met. I was following her photography on the Internet for a while. We then eventually met in London about a year ago as we were both working there. Every now and then we went out, in and around London, for little day trips and had fun

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taking tons of pictures.

We then both left London. I now am studying Design in Germany and she is studying History in Edinburgh.

I went to visit her last month and we had this amazing road trip in the Scottish Highlands.

See more of Daniel's work at danielfaro. wordpress.com

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Ginger cake Recipe and illustration by Jess Hinsley.

I used this recipe when Chloe came to visit and it went down a treat. With gooey chunks of ginger, it’s deliciously good for your soul. When you feel like you need a little TLC, this cake definitely knows how to pick you up.

Preheat your oven to 180º.

Firstly, mix the sugar, golden syrup and butter together.

Whisk your eggs in a separate bowl and slowly add to your mixture.

Then, add the ground ginger and gently sift the flour in.

Lastly, add you diced stem ginger and thoroughly mix everything together.

Ingredients: 200g self raising flour 200g brown sugar 200g butter 3 eggs 1tbsp ground ginger 2tbsp golden syrup Diced stem ginger (to your taste)

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Once you’ve put in as much ginger as you like (we like a lot), pour into a greased round tin and pop into your oven to bake for 30 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.

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Bright side of life Words by Chelsea Thomson, image by Chloe Ray

A Grandpa can teach you more than checkers.

When I sat down to write this piece on heroes, I was overwhelmed by the amount of options I had. At first, the obvious ones came to mind; my favourite writers for example- that was a long list- or artists, photographers, bloggers; all fantastically talented people.

Inspirational people to some degree; whom no doubt I could write about for pages upon pages.

But as I sat in search of an idea, it then hit me that the true hero in my life, and indeed the person who inspired this piece, lay a lot closer to home. That person, was my eighty-four year old Grandpa, who I heard whistling away, through my open bedroom window.

He’d come over to do the gardening, as he did most days when the sun was shining. It was plain to me that he was one of my personal heroes, but not only that; I believe him inspiring enough to make an interesting person for you all to read about.

So, I’ll start from relatively near the beginning. Due to my mum being a working single parent, a large chunk of my childhood was spent with my Grandparents. Back then, my Grandpa seemed like more of a superhero, than the figurative hero that he is today. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to climb trees, and by the age of seven, I knew how to play checkers and cards, better than any young girl should. He taught me the value in so many of life’s little things. To me, other grandparents seemed either strict, or gentle and quiet. But my Grandpa was just this crazy burst of energy wherever he went; often much to my dismay.

When I was younger, he walked me to school. I imagine that any of you who have tolerated a relative, whose main passion in life is embarrassing you, will fully understand the horror. Some days, he would stand at the railed fence of the playground and stick his head through the bars, pulling silly faces at all of my friends. Other days he would dance extravagantly, or sing operatically in his loud tenor bass voice. Honestly? I loved him for it, but loathed the attention

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it brought. My friends thought he was insane- but brilliant. “Your grandpa is so cool!” is a phrase that I’ve heard frequently throughout my life. However, in my opinion, cool is an understatement.

I won’t go into any of his tall tales, but from soldier to minister (and almost everything in between) it’s safe to say he’s led a pretty colourful life. What I want to pay tribute to, however, is not his stories or achievements- but instead, what makes him a hero to me; who he is as a person.

My grandpa is the kind of person who lets absolutely nothing phase him. He’s strong in a way that I can barely comprehend and his attitude towards life is one full of positivity and opportunism. He never lets a moment go to waste and he simply faces challenges head on. Though I was briefly aware of all of this, it has never been more apparent to me than it was in the year of 2012.

I’ve been trying not to mention my gran, because I could write a whole separate piece on why she was a hero herself. So I’ll simply say what I must so that you can understand. My gran was the kindest, most loving person I’ve ever known, and in November 2012, she passed away. She suffered from dementia- but had been stable and able to cope for years. Within a couple months of being hospitalised, she became immobile and had forgotten completely who I was; worse still, who she was. Everything that made her the person I knew her to be, was gone. Every story and memory we’d shared; to her, ceased to exist. The only thing she remembered- was her love for my grandpa. She never forgot him.

I tell you all of this, only to pay tribute to the astounding strength that I glimpsed within my grandpa at this time.

My gran was his whole life. They were best friends. They bickered constantly and drove each other mad- but it was clear that it was just their way of loving one another. That’s the way I’d always known them. But as soon as my gran was taken into hospital, things changed. He lived solely to visit her and she cried for him day and

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night. He’d laugh, smile and kiss her on the cheek- something I’d never seen him do before. And on bad days he’d hold her hand, hum her favourite old church hymns to soothe her, while promising that everything would be okay. Their love was beautiful. And I found it heart-breaking that only then, when it was hanging by a thread, did I begin to see it fully unfold.

When my gran passed away, my grandpa didn’t cry. Instead he offered encouraging smiles and an air of peaceful quietness. I remember watching him, through teary eyes, wondering where on earth he found his strength. Trying to understand how a man could watch his whole world crumble and stand unshaken; unfaltering. I knew that if I asked him, his answer would be God. After this, he was different for a little while. It was subtle, but he was quieter. To those who knew him, his usual vibrance just seemed to have faded a little. This lasted from November, to January; the quietness. Grieving. But then, as if over-night, something changed. His vibrance returned- only brighter. His booming laugh and borderline-offensive jokes were back. And, now? He’s fitter than I am and more sociable than I’ll ever care to be. He’s back to gardening and building things. He walks 8 miles some days. He’ll get buses to places he’s never been before and return with new friends and new stories. I cannot even express to you how beautiful it is to see an eighty-four year old man with a new found sense of freedom. It’s like he’s got a second chance.

I really hope that it’s clear to you why I’ve chosen my grandpa to write about. I admire him for his strength, his resilience, and the ever present joy that carries with him. I too, long to chase after life for all that it offers. And find happiness- even where there is seemingly none. I hope for us all that by the age of eighty-four, we are happy, laughing, and travelling to new places. Creating new stories and making new friends.

Make your life a lovely one.

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Susannah Van Der Zaag Words and images by Susannah V D Zaag

The girl behind the lens talks about her adventures.

Thomas During a trip to Mexico, Thomas and I borrowed our hotel’s bikes to find a bridge that we were told had burnt down a few years before. The bikes were fixed gear, with high handlebars and no brakes. The road wound through a jungle beside the ocean, covered with potholes and puddles that we navigated around, and sometimes through. The first two guard dogs that lunged at us made us nervous enough to stop and find pieces of driftwood that we hung onto past the next six dogs. The chain on my bike fell off three times. We dodged one tropical storm, but were hit by two others mere minutes after the first had passed. After sixteen kilometres we had found a snake, a family of raccoons, tidal pools and crabs, but not the burned bridge.

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Taryn During our winter break this year, Taryn and I drove north three hours to a section of the Bruce Trail on Lake Huron in Ontario. We had heard that the lake had frozen over and ice had formed on the cliffs and rocks along the shore. We hiked for an hour and a half until we reached the lake. It was so cold that our cell phones died and my camera worked only after Taryn had warmed the batteries in her bra for over twenty minutes. We walked on the lake beside the ice formations until we heard a loud crack in the ice below us.

We ran to the nearest rock and huddled between the frozen lake and a sheer cliff. We eventually gathered up the courage to cross the ice again to reach a path to solid land.

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James James and I took the ferry over to Toronto Island in early December. We greatly underestimated the temperature difference between the mainland and the island, and were frantically trying to keep warm while searching for a local craft sale. We found ourselves crashing a yacht club’s private Christmas party, where there were some delicious cheeses and desserts. When we found the craft sale, we purchased the best homemade eggnog that has ever been created. The locals told us that there is only one man on the island who knows the recipe for the eggnog. Every Christmas, whoever agrees to make the eggnog is delivered the ingredients along with secret recipe from the eggnog man.

See more of Susannah's work here flickr.com/susannahhope/

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Juan Pablo Taverna Words by Juan Pablo Taverna

My musings.

The love I have for life and art is my inspiration. It makes me want to show it to others. I want to share how I see the world through my eyes, how I am a witness of every day’s miracle. My intention is to share that part of me with the viewers of my work, so in that way they become part of me as I become part of them. Sharing my photos is sharing my heart.

I like to photograph what I love, what I feel, what I can be sure will become a strong and beautiful memory. I want to capture memories.

My inspiration is feelings. I let myself go with them and capture them in my work. I believe my photos have a strong emotional charge.

Talking about my feelings, part of my inspiration is the love I have for my girlfriend. My love for her is something I also look to share in our portraits. For me, that’s a very powerful sign of love.

See more of Juan’s photography at flickr.com/photos/juanpoh/

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We can be heroes Words by Fraser Nunn, illustration by Jamie Tobin.

Do your good deed of the day and rescue your boyfriend from a spider.

David Bowie once sang “We can be heroes.” This phrase strikes me deep in my core. David Bowie is not my hero. You are my hero.

Humanity. Everyone has that capability; they just need to learn to use it. I don’t mean a Charles Xavier and the X-men kind of capabilities. I mean a much more basic, primitive nature that people seem to forget about. Kindness. Kindness is a lost art, forgotten in age upon age of despair and angst.

Long ago, people would open the car door for their ‘best gal’ and expect nothing in return. Before that, men would battle for the hand of a ‘Fair maiden’ or rescue ‘damsels in distress.’ I’m not saying chivalry is dead either, I’m just saying we can do better. You don’t have to save a life. A little kindness goes a long way. I’m not only talking to the gentlemen, ladies too need to learn to be kind. Take a moment to tell your man how good he looks. (Heck, we like to have our egos stroked too!) These may not make you a hero, but those little acts add up.

It takes no time at all! Smile at a stranger, smiles are contagious.

You may get the occasional odd look but I guarantee that you will make someone feel just that little bit happier. Donate to charity, you don’t have to donate much, but it’s always possible that you’re a contributor to saving a life, (whether it be that of a human, dog or donkey.) These are the little things that add up and make you someone’s hero.

It’s simple. You won’t even have to wear lycra or a mask (unless you want to). You don’t have to be Spiderman or run into a burning building, guns blazing like John McClane. Take a minute and feed the ducks at the park. Help an old lady with her shopping, help her cross the street, put up some shelves for her, all you have to do is help. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll swoon with the words “Oh, my hero!” That’s when you know you’ve done your job.

You don’t have to risk life and limb. Maybe you’re scared of spiders.

Maybe your boyfriend is too. Maybe you step up. You conquer your

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fear and tackle that spider, encasing it in a combination of glass and paper. Maybe your boyfriend swoons and says “Oh, my hero!” You’re doing it! You have defeated your arch nemesis and saved the… *Ahem* ‘damsel’ in distress. You’ll have also overcome a fear in the process.

Perhaps, when patrolling the city for crime you come across a crying child. Now, suppose you ask them “What’s up kid?” You’re doing your part. He’s lost his parents? Help him out. You don’t want to leave him all alone do you? Heck! Do the same if it’s an adult. At any age it’s always nice to see someone cares enough to check on you; to make sure you’re okay.

You know what’s pretty great? Hearing that you’ve done a great job.

Find a moment to say that every day. “Great job” or “I’m proud of you” or both! But pick your moment wisely. You don’t want to tell your boss you’re proud of them. I don’t know how well that would go down. Remember; it’s all about how you say it.

Maybe if you have a voucher for a free hot drink; pass it on. Give it to a homeless person or pass it to the person behind you in the queue. Give them the free drink; I’m sure it’ll make their day just a little bit better. If you have the cash, you could always treat someone less fortunate than you to a nice hot meal. Many people who live without a home would greatly appreciate it. However don’t feel obliged to. A little bit of change will push them ever closer to seeing you as the hero you are. If you have the time, a little volunteer work will go a long way. There’s always somewhere you can volunteer. Homeless shelters, tutor a young child, there are lots of things you could do.

Acts of Random Kindness (ARK) can be as big or as small as you’re

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willing to give. Sacrifice your seat on the bus or if you’re feeling brave you can donate some blood and take pride in the fact that your blood has saved a life. You could pay for the person behind you in a queue or even donate your hair to a charity that makes wigs. It’s entirely up to you.

Remember that the key to happiness is kindness and the key to kindness is happiness. Look after yourself, be kind to yourself.

Being kind will help you feel valued, loved and important; it will raise your confidence. Being happy will keep you kind, take a trip out and sing some karaoke, be happy and you’ll find it much easier to be kind to people.

A hero to me is someone who does something spectacular or unexpected, something kind for a stranger. It doesn’t take long to find a moment of kindness. Maybe this week you’ll find yourself in a coffee shop or a care home hearing the words “oh, my hero!”

Maybe you’ll find yourself at a homeless shelter and realise that you are making a difference and it’ll make you smile. There is no greater feeling.

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A magazine for the quieter readers, that wish to get away from the mundane and chaos of the real world. For the five-minute biscuit break or the indulgent bedtime reading. We want to feed curiosity and shed light on overlooked things in life.

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