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 After a while Prince Charming always turns out to be a filthy toad; it's an inevitablity of life.

 It always starts out the same, with the exciting, movie-perfect few months, which many of us know as the 'honeymoon period'. Unfortunately, the happiness is short-lived; especially when you face the awful realisation that behind the polished surface, your 'amazing new fella' is just as lying, manipulative and porn-obsessed as the next man.

 Of course, it's no secret that the best way to overcome man troubles is to go out for a nice piss-up with your mates; and what better time to do so than Freshers week?!

  Check out my facebook for more info. Search for Rachael Elizabeth Broadhurst, and feel free to flick through my Freshers pictures.

Have you ever enjoyed a holiday so much that you actually dreaded coming back home? No? Well, in fairness neither had I. That is, up until yesterday.

During my luxurious week away however, several important things were highlighted to me:

• Holiday romances never work. Trust me. Fall for someone on holiday, and one of two things will happen:

1. At least one of you will end up in tears by the end of the trip. Luckily for me however, I am well aware that mascara stained cheeks and puffy red-eyes are a sure way to scare away any victim of a holiday relationship, so this problem didn't occur in my case.
2. You will realise, much to your dissapointment, that said victim doesn't in fact speak a word of English. Makes it ever so difficult to hold a conversation. 

• Never crack jokes in swimming pools. Like many others before them, your friend may become a victim of stiches-of-laughter-with-no-toilet-in-sight disorder. Need I elaborate?
• Never attempt a downhill gradient whilst it is covered with water.
• This rule also applies with steep rocks in the desert.
• Never attempt to board to camel's back without insuring the friendly nature of the camel first. How it hurt when that camel stood up prematurely.
• Remember boundaries. I understand it's difficult when that drop-dead gorgeous Holiday Rep asks you on a date, but remember his job is at stake, etc, etc.
• Be careful what you tell, and to who. Not everyone is a friend
• Be sure not to get stalked by obsessive gangs of Arabic school children. I had no idea they found blonde people so fascinating!
• Don't smile at sales men. You smile, they stalk.

So with that little lot stored in my brain, I'm well ready to go out and see what other amazement the world has to offer.

Oh, how I love putting on a cheeky grin in public places; makes everyone wonder what you've been up to... and the best part of it is that they'll never find out.

I'm quite glad to say that, excitement-wise, the coming week is looking promising. I can only hope that my dear friend Paris's parents don't arrive home unexpectedly, and discover the drunken revelry this weekend. I can only wish Paris luck with the rest of her life with them if they do.

Oh, and a special shout-out must go to a certain friend of mine, who I'll be happy to catch up with whilst all of the 'excitement' is going on.

Does the fashion industry create an unachievable image, which can lead to self-loathing?

For many years, fashion has presented the public with perfectly groomed and airbrushed women who many people, especially youngsters, aspire to be more like.

The idea that what people wear, and the make-up they use can alter how others percieve them may be true to an extent, however surely this presents the idea that the most important aspect of a person is how they appear physically. I think that today's society has a perception of the word 'beauty' which is distorted. In fact, it is difficult to leaf through a modern woman's magazine without finding some air-brushed woman showing off the latest make-up trends, or modelling the newest fashionable clothing; much of which would be utterly impractical as day-to-day wear for modern woman!

These images of 'perfect' women shown to young people create the illusion that this is what is considered 'beautiful', and therefore can brainwash them into thinking that they aren't attractive if they don't look this way. The main problem with modern fashion is that it goes against the idea of originality, and people who don't abide by it are often considered uncool by their piers. Modern teenagers are often extremely image-conconscious, and looking good has never been more important. The way you dress says a lot about the way you feel, and the most common reason people turn to fashion is because they are afraid of feeling socially neglected.

Unfortunately, although many argue that inner virtues are considered far more important than physical appearance, it cannot be denied that those who don't fit in physically are usually the targets of social neglection, or even bullying.

It is a sad truth that many teens resort to self-harm or even attempt suicide because they feel as though they don't fit in. A record 80 children a year are said to have died as a result of bullying, and that figure is steadily increasing.

On the other hand however, it is argued that the blame for this victimisation cannot be put soley onto the fashion industry. In the industry's favour, there are many other factors which can contribute towards the violence, and victimisation of those who are different is not only a recent problem, but something which has taken place long before the fashion industry flourished. Another arguement is that fashion has inspired many youngsters, and that it can help them to feel as though they 'fit in' socially.

To conclude, I would suggest that fashion is neither good nor bad. On one hand, it can help people to feel socially accepted and can help build self-confidence for many youths, and on the other hand it has been said to discourage originality and independence, and perhaps can lead to social alienation.

Whatever opinion you may have on the ever-growing, ever-changing fashion industry, one thing is for certain; It doesn't look as though the idea of fashion will be banished at any point in the near future. So love it or hate it, fashion is here to stay; and so, therefore, are its consequeces. 

Today is the 30th/4th/2007

I am here today, to tell you about the somewhat random chain of events that led to a rather interesting, and slightly peculiar Sunday night....

...it all started with a visit to the 'Coach House' pub in Babbacombe. After a few merry bevvies and drunken renditions of 'Mustang Sally' on the karaoke machine, my friend Simon and myself decided to head off in search of new excitement.

Our hunt lead us (as they generally tend to do) to the infamous Torquay Harbour. Here we shared a few laughs over 'Peter the Puker'; a rock formation resembling a vomiting man, and making friends with farmers. After several hours we decided we were bored, and began to make our way back home. It wasn't until I neared the bottom of my drive however, that I suddenly realised I didn't have my key with me.

After gently tapping on my door a few times in the hope that someone might still be awake, yet afraid to awaken my sleeping father, I decided I must resort to plan b, get hold of another key. And to make matters slightly more irritating, the nearest key was held in the posession of my dear Mother... 2 miles away.

When informing Simon of the news, I was expecting a slightly more crude response than the one I was given. Instead, he simply said,

"Shall we skate there?"

My mind was screaming 'no' at full volume, but somehow the word 'yes' escaped from my mouth... how does alcohol make you agree to things like this?!

So, with no hint of reluctance, I pulled out two skateboards, which happened to be lying somewhat conveniantly in my porch next to me, and we set off down Shiphay Lane.

Admittedly, the random adventure did prove to be quite fun, (this was of course until I was nearly hit by a car, and was excreeted on by a passing seagull... I didn't see the funny side; everybody else did) however by the time I arrived back home I was ready to pass out from the excitement of the whole ordeal.

In fact, I probably would have passed out, had I not been told shortly after walking through the door,

"Rachael, I think Oscar is dead."

The poor fish. He'd been only been with us three days... Rest in peace little friend.

Oscar Ricardo - 25th-28th April 2007.

(Oh, and quick shout-out to Simon who's random ideas made an otherwise depressing night one worth remembering.)

It all started off as a casual, student like, innocent affair...

...but by the end of the night, it was war.

Highlights of evening included;

• 'Matilda' in reverse (my personal favourite was fat kid regurgitating cake)
  
• telling mother what was in fact a friend's helmet, was a lovely plant pot (a result of the 'who can act the most sober in front of the mother' game. Let's just say, I didn't win)
• waking up to find a foot carefully positioned in my face
  
• covering friend's puke with grass
• shouting at 'burglars' who attempted to steal my friend's bike. I was a little too inebriated to realise that the criminals concerned were in fact my brother and his friend
  
• mistaking sleeping bag for waffle
• losing coat to drunken friend

Special shout-out must go to Jay and Tom, who's affairs with coloured pens made the night worth staying-up for.