Welcome to the valleys

As most of you who have met me or have read this blog thoroughly will know, I originate from a little town in the South Wales valley named Merthyr Tydfil. In this area of Wales, we are simple folk - there are around 55,000 of us unwillingly residing there, many of us don't speak welsh unless we are drunk, (which we usually are), we have ironworks and steelworks that are, instead of being used to fuel our poor unemployment rates, used as museums that no one ever goes to, and it is nearly always raining.  Welcome!

The real valleys 

I'm not portraying my hometown in the best light to be perfectly honest, but then again, not many people will. The ironic thing it that I absolutely adore Merthyr, and my home villages of Aberfan and Troedyrhiw, (which are legitimate names, I assure you.) Since I left the Valley's upon receiving my A level results, I've been feeling very nostalgic about the place. Don't get me wrong, the moment I found out I was leaving home, I was ecstatic. Like most students, I was looking forward to having my own space, freedom to do what I wanted and when; to eat, sleep, work and stumble in from a night out whenever I liked, to essentially become my own person. But unlike most of my fellow students, I was also excited to escape from the shackles of Merthyr Tydfil. I was sick and tired of always driving towards a mountain, never mind my destination, of seeing sheep grazing on the side of the roads as I made my way to school in the mornings, and of being known by everyone as 'Mike Parry from the council's daughter', or 'Lynne Marshall's granddaughter', (my Nan is on what we refer to as the council of village elders.) More importantly, I was sick and tired of being tarred with a brush that says that Merthyr is one of the most miserable places to live in Britain, alongside some generally high statistics regarding youth crime and drugs.

Of course, this was all before the moving out stage. As I approached the last weeks of living in Merthyr, I found that I had fallen in love with it all over again. I started to appreciate everything a little bit more, even the abundant amounts of foliage and farm animals casually strolling down the road. So by the time it came to my departure, I found that I didn't really want to leave.

From my arrival to Swansea University to this very day, I cannot get through a conversation without someone asking or clarifying where I'm from, followed by a startled gasp and then an awkward silence, as I silently curse the person in front of me for judging my wonderful town. I can't say I blame them, because the media portrays us to be the worst place to live in Wales, especially the latest show to come out of it, which most of the population have probably seen by now.

Let's start on the right footing; The MTV 'hit' show, aptly named The Valleys, is absolute shit. I realise I'm a bit late off the mark on this one but, seriously, I've watched one episode of the show and I can't see what would possess anyone to want to continue watching it beyond the first few seconds. The general idea of the show is that MTV locate a bunch of young people from the Welsh valleys, (even though not all of them are actually from the valleys), who apparently have big dreams and aspirations of 'making it' in the music/modelling/porn star industries. These like minded individuals all believe that their only chance of making it is to get out of the valleys and try their luck in the big city of Cardiff. Not London, the capital of the United Kingdom, but Cardiff, the capital of the country they're trying to escape from. The mind boggles.

MTV - The Valleys cast

So, the show opens and the cast of Barbie dolls and drama kings come up on the screen and say how there are no opportunities in the valleys, no jobs and tell the cameras about how sick they are of the fresh air, the sheep, the hills and the pound shops, (which, as a student, I personally love), generally begging to be taken from this God awful place and leave the valleys forevermore, putting me out of my misery of ever seeing them in Tesco again. For those of us who live there or have lived in the valleys, those ideas aren't generally new, and not entirely out of place, especially regarding the unemployment rates. However, after spending 18 years of my life in the valleys and nearing 2 years in the city of Swansea, I can safely say that there are plenty of people in the cities who would also moan about the lack of jobs, who would say that they're sick of the concrete, stray dogs and cars. Basically, people seem to always be discontented wherever they are.

With all that being said, I still have a huge problem with the show.

Like most people who have objections to it, I could moan about the drunkenness, the immorality of it all and the irresponsible and sometimes vile attitudes towards sex and interconnected relationships that the show promotes. But, I think that that may be a little hypocritical, especially on the issue of states of intoxication, so I'll leave that job to the older and more moral generation of the Valleys. Likewise, I'm not going to do the obvious and bang on about how the show paints the valleys in a bad light. It's obvious that not everyone in the valleys behaves in that way, even if some of them do. But that can be said for any area of the UK. Nobody actually meets me and expects me to get my tits out within five seconds of meeting them, just because I'm from the valleys. It doesn't work like that, and, sorry to disappoint, but I certainly don't work like that.

MTV logo - The Valleys

My main concern about this show is that it promotes laziness, spinelessness and escapism. The idea that the show promotes to young people is that if you live in an area where 'making it' is tough, you need to leave it, rather than face the situation up front and deal with it. It's so easy to identify the problem and then moan about it and, let's be honest with ourselves, many people from the valleys do exactly that. It takes a lot more creativity and courage to make something good out of a bad situation, but I think that it is achievable. I admit that the opportunities in Merthyr are few and far between, but that doesn't mean that people should just pack up and go. You have to make your own opportunities, open your own doors and realise that not everything you want in life is going to be handed to you on a silver platter, as much as I would like it to be. That goes for anywhere, not just the valleys. Admittedly, I'm probably a bit hypocritical saying that, as I don't live there anymore but, for what it's worth, I'd go back in a heartbeat, even though I left and am currently working towards a degree in 'the city'. That kind of amazing stuff doesn't happen to someone who aims to grab five minutes of fame through becoming a WAG or a glamour model or joining a shit reality show that isn't even realistic.

   

I appreciate that the valleys don't usually have huge multiplex cinemas, bendy buses with TV screens on board or a vibrant nightlife beyond having a flagon in the park and running when you hear police sirens. Admittedly, whenever I venture to London to visit my boyfriend, I am always in awe of everything going on there and sometimes wish that we had all those wonderful things back at home. However, unlike London or any city in Wales, we do have some things going for us in the valleys beyond showing off our tits, the farm animals all over the place and the MTV show 'The Valleys', and they come in threefold;

1) An epic countryside to abuse

2) A genuine community spirit

3) And, above all else, a tidy accent. 

Giving up new year's resolutions

I've never really enjoyed New Years Eve.

I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous because it's one of the few days of the year that people are legitimately licensed to get drunk before midnight with not only your friends, but your parents and (if you're me or you live in an incredibly small village/town) your grandparents. I have no objections to putting my liver through such hefty alcohol abuse, and there's no issue whatsoever with making a fool out of myself as I declare my undying love for the other drunks in the pub/bar/club or general space I'm inhabiting. It's just that it gets me down - makes me all melancholic and remorseful and more whiny than usual.

When I'm not complaining to the point of epic 'please-shut-the-hell-up' proportions about what I should have done with the previous year, how my body weight has sky rocketed and doubled over the last two weeks of the Christmas holidays, and of the state of my car which I have still failed to clean out, I'm left wondering idly why the goddess and beacon of all that is wonderful that is me is not enjoying the new year's celebrations. Mostly.

This year, I found myself fighting through crowds in London, jumping barriers and feeling like a complete idiot as I hoisted my very overdressed legs over iron barriers whilst carrying two bottles of Smirnoff ice. I found myself in Trafalgar square at midnight, watching the fireworks that were happening around the corner go off on a big screen next to Nelson's column. With my loving and wonderful boyfriend next to me, wearing a beanie hat, smoking a cigar and drinking gin and tonic from a can, I realised two very important things.

1) I've never enjoyed new years eve because I'm anticipating the let down that will transpire after I've made my 'new year resolutions.'

2) I am a proper Billy no mates.

Many of us make personal pledges to improve our lives at the beginning of a new year. We delude ourselves into believing that the beginning of every new year leads on to a brand new us. We have decided that we will all work out every day, go gluten-free, think more positive thoughts or do more random acts of kindness.

It's the one tradition that I could never and will never be able to wrap my head around. Let's face it folks, new year's resolutions are just plain stupid. Yep, there we go. I've actually said it. Choosing one single day to start a major life change just isn't logical, which is why the majority don't work and most of us end up feeling like failures until next year. I'm not saying some haven't been successful - just that a lot go unfulfilled. Just imagine - if every single person in the UK promised to diet and go to the gym every week as a part of their resolution, we'd be a much thinner society and I, a much more jealous woman.

So, why do so many of us make and break our yearly resolutions to read more books, work harder in life, quit smoking, be healthier and to look after our money a bit better? You'll be pleased to know that I think I've nailed it in three points.

1) We anticipate too much and want it all too quickly.

In this life, there are two types of people. There are the incredibly irritating ones who can pick up a new hobby or take on a challenge like it's absolutely nothing. And then, there are people who are, well, more normal and realistic. For example, a friend of mine has the amazing ability to pick up instruments and just play them like a pro, which I'm insanely jealous of right now, as I try to fathom out the mandolin my father impulsively bought me for Christmas. In short, they have that both wonderful and annoying ability to effortlessly succeed in everything they do.

Unfortunately, most of the British population and in fact, normal people, are not this person. If you are, (like me), woefully and pathetically out of shape, gathering sponsorship to run a marathon by the following summer isn't only demoralizing, it's downright madness. Of course, that doesn't mean that anyone should now abandon their desires to lose weight, be healthier, run marathons, swim the English channel, drink less or learn to play volleyball, just because I've said so. I'm just saying we need to be realistic about our expectations - some targets just aren't reachable and need modification. As well as time.

2) Giving up because the results don't come quickly enough.

I've been to the gym once before for five minutes of torture to welcome in the new year, followed by a hasty retreat. In the time that have passed since, I have longed to lose weight and to be able to walk up a flight of stairs without collapsing. But the gym, for me, is not the place to do that, with the bacon sandwiches in the cafe next door tempting me as soon as I walk outside. And it is especially not the place to do it at the beginning of the year.

I know of people that have and that go to the gym on a regular basis, but they know to avoid it during the month of January. Without fail, in January, people flock from left, right and centre to get in shape. The treadmills and free weights are occupied from dusk to dawn with these people who are determined to fight the flab. But, by February, the gym is usually empty again and my friends can return to lifting weights in relative peace for the rest of the year.

New year's resolutions are nearly always sincere - people don't say to themselves on January first "Yes - this year, I think I'll make a half - arsed attempt to lose a bit of weight and eat healthier." People do want to be able to cut back on the sweets and quit smoking, but it requires commitment, not just on January first, but on the second and the third and every day that follows up until December.

3) The first of January is an awful starting point

Of all the days we can choose to start making a major difference to our lives, January the first has to be, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst. It's the one day of the year in which the entire nation is collectively waking up with severe headaches and incurable hangovers. Collectively, we drag ourselves to our kitchens, which are decimated from the previous evening, pour ourselves cups of coffee or glasses of water. Fresh in our drunken humiliation, we remember the new year has happened and try to convince ourselves that, yes, today is the day I'm going to become a better person.

Urgh.

It's completely understandable why January the first seems like the best day to start fresh and anew. It marks the end of the holidays - the end of the presents, large and fattening meals, the gingerbread cookies, the champagne at 11 am  the eggnog and mulled wine. But, just because something so wonderful has ended, does it really mean we have to make ourselves over to mark that?

Probably not.

It's not like all the physical remains of the holidays magically disappear at the stroke of midnight on January first. The remains of the Christmas tree stay up for another week and I've heard that fruitcake lasts a hell of a long time beyond Christmas day. My point is that making a significant lifestyle change isn't easy - you're either ready to do it there and then or you aren't. The beginning of a new year isn't going to make it any easier on you to go out for a daily run. If anything, the cold weather and the tight shorts combo you've been eyeing up will make it damn near impossible.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news...

Now that's over and done with, I'm off to finish off the essays that I promised I would have finished by now, and to do all the work I have procrastinated against until now, hereby marking my glorious failure of Gemma Parry's 2012 new year's resolution.

I'll come up with one for 2013 in June, when I know where I'm better placed for success.