Harry Potter quizzes. The secret nightmare.

I am in the midst of an identity crisis. I have spent many hours staring into the distance, feeling the wind whip across my face and getting blurry eyed all the time thinking... “Who am I?”.

This is, I hasten to add not because of any deeper spiritual or existential crisis. Although I maintain that existential crises and small talk are the only two things I’m actually any good at in life (they help each other out, you see), this has actually all been spurred on by something much more mundane. And that would be Harry Potter.

I have a tendency to spend all my time focussing on one thing at a time, it will dominate my thoughts, my dreams and my chat. This tendency is part of the reason I have to restrict myself when watching zombie related tv/films, because I will become a twitching mess who only wants to talk about the zombie apocalypse and doesn’t even care that The Great British Bake Off is on and that Paul Hollywood has trimmed his beard. Pretty frightening times. So whilst I am now at a stage where I know my limits when it comes to, say zombies, it turns out I do not know them when it comes to Harry Potter.

Part of the reason this is though is because it’s all been a rather subconscious process. I happened to watch a few of the Harry Potter films which were being shown over Christmas and then I happened to do a lot of driving where I like to pretend to be nodding and tapping along to some new band on Radio 1, just like I’m down with the kids when obviously I’m actually just listening to Harry Potter on audiobook. Which are awesome. So, it’s not like I was actively focussing on HP all the time, I’ve not felt compelled to re-read the books - life is too short to inflict that many capital letters upon oneself – and yet I still found it creeping into my thoughts.

And so I started to ask my friends. Big shout out to my friends (hey there), they put up with a lot of questions from me. I’m pretty keen on questions. I met a pregnant woman in the kitchen of the office the other day and I fired questions at her for about 15 minutes. I think she was almost on the verge of faking labour just to escape the barrage. She was new to it though. My friends however, well they know what to expect. I think I mainly targeted the lot which had gone through the first round of “what would you do in the zombie apocalypse” last time, so they were well prepped for round two.

Round two was, which Hogwarts house would you be in?

If you don’t read/watch/have any interest in Harry Potter and if Hogwarts sounds like something I really shouldn’t be talking about publically, then just stop reading now because the rest of this post is likely to either bore you or scar you. Possibly both. Take it from me, the author of this – quit whilst you’re ahead. Life is too short.

For all others (hey there, future me), lets continue.

So turns out the majority – I’d say approx. 75-85% of my friends thought they would be in Slytherin. Straight off the bat, no hesitations, most replied with variations on “um, probably Slytherin, if I’m honest”. They would then usually slack the living shit out of all of the other houses with particular emphasis on Hufflepuff.

I’d like to take this opportunity now to state that I am unequivocally, a Hufflepuff. Not by choice, mind. Not by some kind of “oh well, you know, I think I’m a good all rounder so probably Hufflepuff”, no none of that. I am firmly in the category of OTHER. Think about it, what is Hufflepuff’s defining feature? I think most people think that it'“nice”. Nice. Which is, the worst adjective there is. But really, I think it's actually just not having quite enough of the other substances/fiber to truly belong in any of the other house.

So I resigned myself to being a Hufflepuff, fine, whatever. As long as no one can take away my patronus from being a Honey Badger, I’m not that bothered. But then a small voice of protest started to nag away at me. And I thought, you know, I've called myself a Hufflepuff, but that’s not to say that it’s definitely the truth. Why have I resigned myself to a house which is made up of the words “huff” and “puff” when I haven’t even asked THE INTERNET. How can I truly call myself a Hufflepuff if I haven’t asked THE INTERNET? Ridiculous. So I did. I asked the Internet. And this is where things started to get complex.

Initially it all seemed pretty straight forward, first couple of quizzes were all “Hufflepuff, gutted” but I wasn't sure about them. I mean, some of the questions went along the lines of:

Q: You find £20 next to a stray cat in the street, do you:

a) Pocket the money

b) BURN THE MONEY

c) Give the money to the cat and call the RSPCA

d)  Use the money to set up a small cat foster home, which you invest all of your life savings into and ensure that all present and future cats can live in a safe, free, democratic society. Forever.

They were pretty weird and I wasn't taking their answers as the be all and end all. So I tracked down, the ultimate quiz. This bad boy was like 120 questions long. It took me about 3 years to complete start to finish, it was intense. I thought to myself, whatever the outcome, this is thorough, I can trust it. Yep, no real surprises there when I got Hufflepuff.

Should have just left it there – one of my friends was determined to find “notable Hufflepuffs” aside from Cedric Diggory. A couple of hours later she texted me back talking about “the one which went out with Harry Potter for a bit”. That would be Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw. Brilliant.

However, all is not lost. I thought to myself, I’ll do one more. I’ll do one more reputable one. A BUZZFEED QUIZ. That’s like the one quiz to rule them all and in the darkness bind them or something. Well, imagine my surprise when I got Slytherin! Apparently I don’t give a shit about anyone else and I’m always “leader of the pack”. Well I’m really not so sure about that. I listened to Leader of the Pack when I was about 14 and vowed to myself never to put myself in such danger as to be a leader. Lurking at the back making unhelpful comments, that’s me! Which is perhaps more in line with the “Harry Potter character” quiz I subsequently did, when I got Ron Weasley!

That one was even meaner, it told me that I had the emotional range of a teaspoon. I didn't really know how to feel about that, but then I suppose that’s to be expected.

So there you have it, I’m in a daze of Hufflepuff/Slytherin/Ron Weasley confusion. I really wish I had followed in my Dad’s footsteps more. I asked him which house he would be in and he laughed and replied:

“Well, obviously Gryffindor.”

Even my response of MASSIVE CLAIM bounced off him in his happiness at his decision. Admirable, really.

Anyway, I would just like to finish that I have been on a small journey of self discovery throughout this post and I've realised that maybe it’s not actually Harry Potter that I've been focusing on…but quizzes. Shiiiit. Further proof to this - I recently did a Mean Girls character quiz and came out as Karen Smith. You know, the one who doesn't know how to spell ‘orange’? Well according to the internet again, it’s basically a small miracle that I managed to complete a quiz at all. Well done me! So for writing a blog post about Harry Potter I surely should be on track for some kind of special achievement award/recognition/ceremony. Going to stay quietly confident about that one.

Desert Island Discs - Horsley edition

In anticipation of my (inevitable) future fame and glory plus a load of other reasons which I won't bang on about, I've been thinking about my desert island discs. Now, I know that technically you're only allowed 8, but given that this is my fictional island and the chances of me ever meeting Kirsty Young are pretty slight, I've decided to up it to 10.

If I keep blogging and - given that I've been doing this malarky for 4 or so years now, the chances are I may keep it up for a while longer, then I think I'll do another list at some point. Not in a week or so, but a few years down the line. I love the evolution of music taste and choices. Ask me what my desert island disc choices were 4 years ago and it would have featured no Fleetwood Mac. Ask me 10 years ago and it would have featured a lot of shit and the Pixies (if could have 11 I reckon Hey would have been a very strong contender. Cracking track.)

So who knows what my music taste will be like in a few years, but right now it's like this:

1. I have to open with The Beatles. I absolutely love The Beatles, and whittling it down to just one track, was incredibly difficult. And yet, my decision is final. To me this is the sound of the summer. This song just encapsulates everything about lazy summers and sunshine. It just sounds like sunshine. Absolutely wonderful stuff. So here, my first choice.

Dear Prudence, The Beatles.

2. Ok next, obvious. Has to be Fleetwood Mac. My love for the Mac is eternal and Rumours is a top 3 favourite album without a doubt. I have blogged in the past about why Rumours is such a good album so I won't repeat myself but the album has huge sentimental value for me. I wasn't into Fleetwood Mac before I moved to London, I was vaguely familiar with them of course, but really, I knew nothing about the band or their music. I bought Rumours on a whim because I had heard good things. This album therefore, is the album for my first year in London, my best year in London, the year of going out and having an absolute fucking blast. Great times. I have chosen this track especially because it is a track which has slowly established itself as my favourite after many many listens of the album. Obviously the clear stand outs are Dreams, Go your own way and The Chain and don't get me wrong, I absolutely love them, they are what make Rumours one of the best albums of all time. But something about this one...something about the intro bass and Christine McVie's voice, not to mention the back story behind it (that sleeping with her lighting director was better than her husband and band bassist...), well it all just combines to make a pretty glorious song.

You Make Loving Fun, Fleetwood Mac 

3. No 3 was always going to be in my top 10. I don't even need to offer an indepth explanation of why, you just need to listen to it. One of my favourite albums and a song which you connect with, no matter what your mood.

Wish you were here - Pink Floyd

4. Part of the reason I love wish you were here is because of the lyrics, the vocals, there is so much depth to it. But I love a good instrumental too, and track one is often the stand out track on an album. It certainly is on this album, what an intro. It's a satisfying and rhythmic sound which I find myself wishing would never stop. So here's the extended version:

Intro, the xx 

5. No 5 is one of my steadfast go-to songs. You know when you're flicking through your collection and despairing that you have nothing that you want to listen to, this usually comes to my rescue. Tap footingly good, it's great to stride around to and sing along loudly to in the car and and... and anything really. It is an absolute tune. Horsley fact.

Stuck in the middle with you - Stealers Wheel

6. Like a cup of tea. One of my favourite things.

Alexi Murdoch - All of my days

7. I''m not great at feelings. The internet told me that I had the emotional range of a teaspoon recently. Which is pretty harsh coming from something which is 90% cats and morons, but there you go. But I make up for not being great at feelings with my choice of feelings music. Whenever I'm having particularly strong ones I reflexively put on this track, again from one of my all time favourite albums (KID A), a true gem:

How to disappear completely, Radiohead.

8.  My second Mac choice of the list. Just a beautiful ballad, and again the emotional intensity behind it shines through behind such delicate music and lyrics. I never tire of listening to this, although of course it isn't, it feels personal to me, it's a song which I keep close to my heart.

Landslide, Fleetwood Mac

9. A band which I have only discovered in the past year or so. From a wonderful album this track has just slowly grown and grown on me with every listen. The sound is so warm.

Lonesome Dreams - Lord Huron 

10. And finally, last but not least. Big Al. Because, what an absolute champion. What an absolute tune.

All I really want - Alanis Morissette

Shire life (i)

"Hi. Where's Myrtle?"

Myrtle is our dog. And 99 out of 100 times, these are the first words of greeting spoken in this house. And by all family members, not just me. I'm more of a "Hi-is-there-tea-where's-myrtle". (I communicate in an incomprehensible mumble my mother never tires of telling me). So despite having flown back to the nest which I so proudly flew three years ago, I have subsequently been, firmly replaced. 

Myrtle does dominate pretty much everything in shire life. Practically every evening there is a battle of wits where Myrtle and I size each other in a fight for the one cushion there is available to sit on. Myrtle is always backed by my parents, who look down on us from their respective chair/sofa and laugh uproariously when Myrtle turned ninja jumps on the bloody thing whilst my back is turned for a SPLIT second and I have to sit on the floor. Or go to my room and sulk, obviously, with echoes of "well it is her cushion, Anna" reverberating bitterly in my ears.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, my parents are convinced that Myrtle is the most well behaved dog out of all the dogs that have ever existed, including Lassie. Sometimes I feel like I'm in some kind of parallel universe where in a different life Myrtle is actually some toddler called Caligula who rules Highgate play groups with an iron fist. Maybe this is a slight exaggeration, Myrtle may be a bit thuggish, but she's no Caligula. Agrippina Minor.. mebbe #classicistgags. Anyway she is disobedient and on almost every walk which I take her on, I inevitably end up losing my temper and shouting obscenities at her. Despite what my mother says, "Myrtle, come!" does not work, whereas "MYRTLE YOU BLOODY DOG COME BACK RIGHT NOW YOU LITTLE ******" works a charm. As one of my friends who witnessed the process once commented mildly - the sounds of the shire would be very different were it not for your walks with Myrtle. 

Indeed, many things about my life in the shire would be very different were it not for Myrtle. The things is, the shire is very...shire like. People wonder why I'm always banging on about the zombie apocalypse and why I have such a comprehensive plan come the inevitable outbreak (grab some crisps and a bottle opener, head to the cellar). It's because, sometimes on weekends you can find yourself wondering if maybe the zombie apocalypse has happened, and just no one in the shire has noticed. It really is, quite remote. So remote in fact, that sometimes it is quite easy to forget that you're not the only one out and about. I was out with Myrtle yesterday, and whilst walking along one of our quite country roads I was keeping myself and the dog entertained with a particularly moving performance of Ironic by Alannis Morisette. So involved was I that I completely failed to notice that a car was waiting patiently for me to get out of the way and it was only when my accomponying dance moves required a 360 degrees spin that I eventually clocked him. Mortifying? Oh yes. But if there's one thing that years of mortifying experiences have taught me, the best thing to do is brazen the bloody thing out. Yank the dog out of the way, don't stop singing, and give the chap a hearty wave. Ignore the fact that he looks like he is suppressing either tears of laughter or very bad heart burn and carry, jauntily on. Or you can just take a bow. Whatever you feel comfortable with.

I have titled this post Shire life (i) because there is more to my life here than the dog, although it probably doesn't seem like that right now. I know that all previous posts I've labelled as being Part 1 with the intention of encouraging/shaming me into writing part 2 have never been completed, but this is 2014! Things are (probably) different now. So stay tuned, etc.