Safe spaces and train stations.

Shuttling through London, deep underground, I know that others find it stuffy, hot and uncomfortable. For me though, it's home. 

I went into the city today, and as the train pulled into the station, I saw the sign outside the tube window wipe into view- Chancery Lane. I always find it amazing that there are these stations dotted around London, signifying a place and yet we are always whooshing past them. I have gone past so many stations on the central line and yet I have never seen most of them. Most stations on the London Underground Map we won't ever see above the miles of concrete we travel through when commuting in London. But there are some stations which we know. Which I know. Stations like the one near where I live. But also stations which I have grown to live in and live with.

When I first started uni, it felt strange. For anyone who has ventured into the city, you will understand. It's scary and intimidating. There are people everywhere rushing places. I always worry that I am inconveniencing someone if I walk too slow or stop randomly in the street, so navigating my way around uni was hard for me. I felt like everyone else knew this strange and new environment whilst I relied on other people's directions to places to eat and the library and where the nearest stationers was. Today, as I saw the sign staring at me, I remembered my feelings of discomfort and being out of place when I first used the station. My university library is off Chancery Lane. I can still feel that sense of everyone looking at me and being under surveillance almost, as I walked out of the station and to the library. I have this need almost, in those situations, to remind myself that I am a smart, independent woman. I think it's my defence-mechanism. I would walk past people, knowing that most of them would make certain assumptions about me, not even considering that I was a university student. As a young, female Muslim, I'm sure I experienced what many others were feeling in similar situations. Over time, although the discomfort lingered, I began to feel a sense of place. Like the bankers and lawyers in their pinstripe suits and briefcases, walking down Fleet Street, I started to feel like London was my city, my turf.(I know, it's childish!).

That was the feeling I had today. I never got off the train at Chancery Lane, but I felt a connection to it. More and more I am realising that there are certain elements of leaving uni that I will miss. The city, or the small corners I have inhabited- Russell Square, Holborn, Chancery Lane, The Strand- are like my second home. I have a favourite lunch place. I have a particular route I use. I know which buses can take me where, without looking at the map at the bus stop. I'm not a tourist anymore. The area isn't made up of random spots on a tube map anymore. These places are now my home.

I think that's why I love the London Underground so much. I always find myself experiencing these profound realisations. Like today, I saw this random, bookish-looking, middle-aged man with glasses and he reminded me of one of my seminar leaders. Then I thought to myself- this man could be a lecturer. Of course, he could have any other profession, and most likely I am projecting, but I can't discount my theory. Then there is the reality that at some point in time, I may have travelled on a train, with someone I know in another carriage. Maybe I have sat on a train with someone I haven't met yet. The possibilities are endless. Everyone is a stranger and yet so familiar. 

Despite what people say about the tube being full of ghastly office workers, builders and bankers, I always find myself feeling relaxed and isolated, as if I am in a safe place.

Being on the train today reminded me of that feeling. And it felt good.

T

Self-Image 2015

I am:

A daughter

A grand-daughter

A cousin

A neice

A sister

A friend

A graduate

A writer

A worrier

A teacher

A student

Sometimes I am confident, but mostly I'm not.

I know I am not alone, but I don't often feel that way.

I am constantly worrying about the future.

I am a good friend, but also a terrible one.

I have read a lot, but not enough.

I would like to be more politically aware but politics makes me anxious. I know that this is a cop-out, but it's how I feel.

I would like to be more present. Instead, I am nostalgic. Always.

I know that other people think I have achieved a lot, but I am slowly learning that I need to internalise this for myself.

I am content, yet constantly yearning. 

Despite all my complaints, I know that I am privileged.

*inspired by the self-image tag that I've seen floating around YouTube. I'm not sure who started it, but it's a fantastic idea.

Haphazard

Today I mostly lounged around the house. I was home alone with my two brothers (which is as close to being alone as actually being alone). They spent most of the day watching TV or Minecraft videos. Side note- I really don't get Minecraft, it just *whooooosh* goes over my head. 

I spent the day with Netflix, doodling, getting a bit (a tiny bit) of some work done. I cooked dinner and did a bit of cleaning. I caught up on my YouTube subscriptions. And now somehow it's 22:54 and I'm writing this crappy post. Not much to say today. 

Here are some of my thoughts from yesterday that I recorded on my notepad on my phone.

3:42am

How do I have a degree? I never even got to the end of Crime and Punishment.

4:03am

I've been trying to connect my uni email account to my phone mail. I have just realised that I doesn't matter anymore.

21:33pm

I feel like keeping a diary on behalf of someone else- maybe a fictional character- the way that it happens in "Jill". (That's the book I'm reading at the moment)

Also, randomly I had this thought. I'm a big Sherlock Holmes fan and I wondered to myself, if I was to meet him, what would he deduce or not deduce about me? It's an interesting question to ask about oneself, right?

T

Stop what you're doing, I have a thought-

A lot of us would say- "only do something if you want to", "don't do anything unless it's what you want", "is that what you want though?"- or something along those lines. This often applies to when we discuss body-image and weight. 

I watched a video just now, in which Maddie discusses exercising for herself. It's a great message and a completely relevant and apt one. But it made me wonder, when a person decides to lose weight or get fit, is it always easy to separate doing it for yourself and doing it for others? 

I would love to get fit right now, and exercise. I would definitely be doing it for myself. But I would also be doing it so that I can feel comfortable in my body, rather than feeling uncomfortable. And that discomfort is surely just a response to other people's views or perceptions of bodies and how bodies should look. Then there is the real, undeniable fact that as humans, our bodies change shape as we grow older. If we get bigger or smaller, is that merely growth and a coming into our adult or newer selves, or should we try to maintain our past shape or size? What if you were healthier when you were smaller/ bigger? 

It seems to me that the line is more blurred than it might seem, especially when it comes to our bodies. I'm not sure if I was to exercise and lose weight that it would be entirely to make myself feel better. A part of me says that it would be so that I could look at people and feel confident about my body. 

Arghhhhhhhhh.

Journal. Entry 1.

Isn't it weird how we stop talking to people? I find it so strange that there are people who I've grown up and gone through huge life-changing things with, who then move on and become other people, other versions of themselves. I've been thinking about this recently. As it's graduation season, I've seen photos of old friends with their cap and gown and I've been realising how estranged I have become from so many people- not in an unkind or deliberate way, but in a human, 'that's life' kind of way. It's made me explore the nature of human relationships and how we share experiences with one another. There are people who have been a part of my life, and I have been a part of theirs. The unsettling part for me has been seeing people who I knew at a certain stage of their life, who have grown up and entered into a new phase, without me being there. It's not a jealous or envious perspective. Rather, it's the realisation of the instability and frailty of human relationships. Does that make sense? It's realising that I may bump into a once close friend, person A, on the street, they will be with a new friend, person B, and when we catch up, person B will not know who I am and what I've been through with person A. It's an awkwardness, a discomfort. It's accepting that relationships are always fleeting. How do you know, how on earth are you supposed to determine that a friendship you have will last and continue?

I know that this is how life works. People forge relationships and some survive while others fizzle out. 

I've realised as I've gotten older that most people around me have small groups of friends. I think, with age, everyone seems to have less tolerance for people who they aren't deeply connected to. It's one of the qualities I wish I had. While everyone seems to be cultivating long-lasting and intimate friendships, I've sort of kept myself behind. It's not because I think I'm better than that. It's simply because I'm uncapable of it. I don't know how to build that type of friendship with someone. 

I know friends who message each other all the time and constantly throughout the day. I'm completely the opposite. The friends I have from school, I see rarely. I have a close friend who I haven't seen in probably a year. We may occasionally interact over twitter or send each other a brief Whatsapp message, but I don't keep in regular contact with her. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hate texting. If I get a message, I'll deliberately reply later instead of immediately, just so that the person doesn't think I'm free to keep a conversation going. Sometimes I will receive a message and I'll have the time to respond but I'll end up over-thinking the message and won't reply until the next day. It's so silly of me, I know, and yet that is who I am. I hate speaking to people by text or even having conversations on the phone. I always feel paranoid about people not being interested in what I have to say, and if that's not the issue then I feel anxious about when the appropriate time to end the conversation is. Recently, a good friend of mine (I have no best friends- not sure if that's a good thing anymore) called me up and she asked me if I was free to talk because she knew that I didn't like speaking on the phone. Surprisingly, that phone call didn't give me any anxiety. It was nice. It was a glimpse into a type of interaction that previously I shied away from. That being said, I don't think I could initiate a phone call myself. It would be so unlike me, my friends would think something had gone wrong. Also, I would be paranoid (see the theme here?) about whether or not they were speaking to me because they wanted to or they felt they had to.

I should mention here that a friend messaged me a minute or so ago, and I already felt myself getting nervous. I haven't looked at the message because I don't want to respond straight away. It's so silly. I don't know why I'm like this! 

Anyway, I seem to have digressed. I was talking about long-lost friends/ acquaintances. What do you call them- people who you were once close with, who are now strangers? There should be a name for them. 

I have many friends. I have groups of friends who I meet at random moments, every so often. I have a group of uni friends and work friends. 

But I have yet to have a friend who I will text every day, see every week or tell everything too. 

I'm not sure if that's normal or not. 

But I think that may be why I'm blogging and not texting people back. 

T

Not so bad after all...

I set my alarm for 10:45 but by 10:30 I was awake. My stomach had butterflies the minute I saw the date and time and I just wanted to sleep. I always feel like if I sleep, while my eyes are closed I won't worry. Of course..... I am always wrong.

I stumbled out of bed and blundered along. Showered, dressed, had breakfast and met my friend at Liverpool Street Station. I waited near Costa and staring towards the ticket barriers, watching to see if the train had come, it occurred to me that everything had become a metaphor. I kept looking at doorways and exit signs as signals for beginnings and endings.

I didn't want to go through with graduation. 

In fact, I kept telling my friend as we walked to the hall, that we could just turn back. When we entered the hall, I panicked inwardly. I saw people in gowns everywhere. Families. Lots of cameras. Lots of posing. Lots of people smiling. What surprised me most of all, was how emotional I felt. 

It's weird because I'd seen pictures on Facebook and Twitter of other departments' graduation ceremonies and I knew what the gowns looked like. But to see a swarm of graduating students and to recognise that I was one of them, to be able to insert and position myself among all these other students, was scary and emotional- in a good way. I thought that I'd be too nervous to feel anything else but actually, the ceremony was heart-warming. There was a sense of humour and tenderness in the presentations. There was a strong feeling of camaraderie, even though I didn't know most of the people personally. I was struck by this intense realisation that I was a part of everyone else's experiences, just like they were a part of mine. I was and have been, so worried about feeling distanced from graduating, but actually, I think I just needed to realise that actually, I knew more people that I thought. I had made more connections than I thought. And I was less nervous than I thought. So many of my classmates came to say hi to myself and my friends. It was touching to be embraced, literally (and I'm not even a hugging person), by people who were feeling joyful and wanted to share their glee.

Seeing my family too, when they came to collect their tickets, made me realise that this was a special occasion. For all that I was worried and anxious about, I was right to go. I would have definitely regretted it had I stayed away. 

I just feel like I faced something today. Not a fear as such, but something overwhelming.

Looking back on it, I think the reason I found graduation so stressful was because I didn't want to deal with the broader picture. I am now a graduate. I am a degree holder. I have a certificate that says it all. I don't feel any different, but to the world, I am a different person. Or at least, I have a new side of myself to embrace.

It's not been an easy ride so far, and I don't think it's going to get easier. But I'm learning to embrace the curve balls and see where they take me.


T

*FYI- Turns out graduation doesn't suck after all. In fact, I highly recommend it.

Reluctantly

I write this post reluctantly. 

I feel like something is lodged deep inside me. Almost like something is wedged in between my organs, keeping everything held tightly together, albeit temporarily. I have been feeling anxious throughout the day. It's been bubbling under the surface but every so often I feel like there's a jolt and that thing, that unidentifiable thing which is keeping everything together, feels as if it's shifted slightly. It makes me feel queasy and unsettled, like I need to take in deep breaths or vomit or cry. 

Then I'll force myself to think about something else and the anxiety becomes a gentle simmer. 

Writing this post reminds me of what awaits me in mere hours. 

Whenever I'm nervous I tell myself that this time tomorrow, it'll all be over. I'm telling myself that now and even though from past experience I know that things are never as bad as I anticipate, something always niggles at me. Something tells me that there is still the possibility of something going wrong.

Life just seems to be following this very pattern. So many things have the potential to go wrong. It's a terrifying thought. I just pray that there are few occurences of this and that if all hell breaks loose I am able to keep moving. 

Graduation sucks.

T

Pre-Graduation Jitters/Doubts/Worries/Apathy?

Graduating feels so different from leaving secondary school and sixth form. It's so much more lonely. Usually when you leave school, there is a last day, a finale. Uni isn't like that. There's no closure. It's just a long process of being in limbo.

You come to the end of your final semester, the last seminar, but you're still yet to face exams or coursework. Then you embark on a month of horrid exam preparation or coursework all-nighters. Then you have another month of waiting for results. After that, you wait for your final award to be ratified. Then you are bombarded by e-mails about graduation and you're ultimately just confused. Apart from the few friends you have on your course, there's no collective moment where you know everything has come to end.

I remember leaving primary and secondary school. There were hugs and lingering goodbyes. Right now, I haven't experienced any of that. I feel numb. I know there are things I should be feeling- nervous, excited, sad about endings, hopeful etc- but I'm more anxious than anything. I just want it to be over. I don't feel sure about anything.

I know that this is all in my head. I know that if I told people what I am feeling, they would tell me it's normal. Everyone is scared. Everyone is anxious. No one knows what they are doing.

But I'm not sure that it's enough.

It's not enough to know everyone is finding it hard.

I want to stop finding things hard.

And I think that's what makes it all the more difficult. Graduating is another milestone achieved and yet I feel like nothing has changed for me. I can see posts on Facebook where distant acquaintances and friends reminisce and ponder on the most rewarding and life-changing three years of their life. Instead, I look back and I find it hard to see where I've grown. I know that if anyone is reading this (who isn't me), they're thinking that I'm feeling sorry for myself.

"Of course in three years you've achieved something!".....you're probably shouting at me right now. You and the rational side of my brain are in agreement.

I think graduation for me is finding the ability to face the past three years and accept that I have changed.
It means being less hard on myself.
It means realising that there is time to make the progress I wanted to make, but haven't.
It means looking forward and not staying in a slump.

Of course, this is all easier said than done.

T

BEDJ/A*

*Blogging (sort of) everyday in July/ August

The aim for this blog was always to write. There was no specific writing goal. I just wanted to write things. Anything really. 

It's like Casey Neistat said recently in a video- "The only think between you and achieving your dreams is doing it". 

With uni and life and the usual excuses, I haven't been writing. On or offline. That makes me sad. So, I decided to just start writing. I've posted over the last few days but truthfully, they are pieces I wrote a while ago. I think I've been trying to ease myself into it. 

For the next few days I'm going to attempt journal-style posts. It may work. It may not. But I'm going to try. 

Right now, at the stage of life I'm in, trying seems to be the best foot forward. 

So....

Here are a few thoughts I've been having recently:

• I've just finished watching BBC's 'The Outcast'. It was a beautiful drama that made me think about trains and journeying. As someone who loves the London Underground I've always loved trains and the experience of movement. There's always this particular feeling I have when standing on a platform. It's like you're simultaneously significant and integral to the crowds of people waiting for the next train, and yet you, like every one person in that crowd are no one. I'm not sure if that makes sense but I guess what I'm saying is that train stations are a place that always resonate metaphorically for me as places of progess or lagging, depending on your perspective that day. The show made me think about childhood, adulthood and the liminal space in between. It made me think about the complex relationship between being okay and being good at hiding you're okay. It made me think about how much when we are children, we change in so many ways, and yet in other ways, we never change at all. 
  
  
  *deep breath* 

• I'm graduating next week and I haven't really been able to look someone in the face and say the words- 'I'm graduating'. 

• I have so much love for 'The West Wing'.... re-watching series one at the moment.

• I can't tell if me being a private person is just another way of saying I'm a coward. 

• How are we supposed to keep up with news from around the world and live as functional human beings? I recognise this is a problematic point, that it allows for complacency, and that it is a pathetic excuse for being willfully ignorant but it's something I think about anyway...

Until tomorrow...

T

'Bouquet'

Mum gave birth today. But my new little brother or sister is dead. He/she was extracted as lumps of congealed flesh. 

In pieces. 

When mum found out a few days ago that the baby was coming eight months early, she said she wanted to be at home. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’d rather it happen naturally.”

Over the last few days we have been waiting. Today was the day. There wasn’t much we could do. Mum spent a lot of the time in the bath room. She called out every so often when she needed help. Her voice was fragile, but mostly she sounded the same. Firm. In control. She gave dad a list. 

Towels, sheets and towels. 

That’s when I knew the baby was coming.

Soon she bled so much that she passed in and out of consciousness. It was me who called the ambulance. They took ages coming. Mum kept bleeding. I don’t remember anything more vividly than the smell. It was the smell of rotting life. Now I know what death smells of. It’s rank.

Mum was rushed to hospital in the ambulance, whilst I scrubbed the bathroom clean. I could see a small sea of red liquid floating in the bottom of plastic bags that dad hadn’t moved yet. I looked in the opposite direction as I picked them up. I needed a big bag for disposal. Then I proceeded to disinfect.

As the smell of ‘’bouquet’ disinfectant overpowered the pungent smell of death I thought about the irony. People tend to deliver flowers to mothers when they deliver their baby. But mum didn’t deliver a baby today. She delivered fragmented limbs, flesh that wasn’t quite flesh, bits and pieces of a human being. What would they give her?

'Curtains'.

Every evening, at precisely 6pm, Mrs Rogers closes her curtains. She is an old woman who lives alone. No one on Argyll Street knows her history. She seems to have lived on the street forever. The residents of Argyll Street all agree that they do not like Mrs Rogers. She has a perpetually sour expression and scowls at little children. During the day, while the curtains are open, Mrs Rogers can be seen standing, peering through her window. She has a sharp and penetrating expression when she stares.  It is safe to say that everyone walks past 67 Argyll Street swiftly; avoiding eye contact with the petite old woman they can feel glaring at them. They’ve named her ‘The Suburban Mad Woman’. Children grow up on Argyll Street being taught that Mrs Rogers is a bad woman who they should not talk to. At 6pm every evening, the residents of Argyll Street exhale softly in relief. The children are allowed to play outside awhile if it’s not too dark, and the adults speculate about what she does when the curtains close.

Today, Mr Singh who lives to the left of Mrs Rogers, believes she’s a ghost who’s haunting the house.

‘She’s waiting to take her revenge. Once she has it she’ll be gone,’ says Mr Singh to Mr Roberts, his neighbour on his left.

 ‘Oh no, Gulpreet, she’s not a ghost. I think she’s working for MI5.’

‘MI5?’ Max, Mr Roberts’ son is a sceptic. He agrees Mrs Rogers is weird but that is where his assumption ends.

‘Come on son, she lives her life just standing by that window.’

‘I agree with your dad Max. There are days when I see her and I feel a sense of dread’. Gulpreet shivers. Max, who cannot believe these are two grown men sighs and walks off. The two neighbours continue speculating. As Max walks indoors, Mrs Porter who has been peering through her blinds in the house opposite strolls towards them. The two men hold back a sigh.

‘Hello chaps. Fine evening it is isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, Marjorie. A very fine evening indeed.’

‘Extraordinarily fine,’ adds Mr Roberts.

‘I happened to see you both talking so thought I would come and join. Is this about the neighbourhood watch?’ 

‘Neighbourhood watch?’ Mr Singh, who is President of the Neighbourhood Watch Committee smiles to himself. ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken Marjorie, the committee meeting takes place next Thursday.’ Marjorie feigns surprise. 

‘Yes, next Thursday. In the town hall.’ adds Mr Roberts pointedly.  ‘You’ve just stumbled on some neighbourly conversation that’s all.’

‘Oh, how silly of me to forget! Yes yes, I do remember now. Next Thursday it is. Sorry to disturb you.’ Mrs Porter turns around with a grimace and totters back home. The two men agree to continue their conversation later and retreat into their respective homes. It is now 6:15 pm.

Paulina and Barry, two lawyers who also live on Argyll Street take the 5:30 train from Willingham Central every day after work. Their train arrives at West Argyll Station at 6:10pm. Their walk home takes them past Mrs Rogers’ home at the centre of the street.

‘Mrs Rogers has pulled the curtains then.’ Paulina takes a quick look as they walk past. She glances at the time.

‘Hmm. I suppose she needs to block out the light while she’s stirring her cauldron.’

‘Or stabbing her voodoo dolls.’

‘Or digging underground tunnels into each of our homes so she can murder us in our sleep.’

Both Paulina and Barry chuckle. They stop to cross the road.

‘I wonder if anyone really believes this stuff.’ Barry looks at Paulina and they both turn back. They stare at her window. It is almost as if they expect to hear the sound of drilling, the chanting of a curse or the stabbing of needles into cotton. There is no strange sound. Just the sound of trees rustling in the evening breeze and birds tweeting in the distance. The pair turn away from her window and cross the road. For the rest of their walk home they do not speak.

This is but a glimpse into the opinions of a few residents of Argyll Street. There are other rumours that spread every so often about Mrs Rogers too. Between the time of 6pm and 5am when the curtains are closed, the residents of Argyll Street speculate endlessly. It has become a community project. Mrs Rogers knows. She knows they gossip about her. She does not address their rumours or assumptions.

What is interesting is how wrong they all are. They are so very wrong about Mrs Rogers.  I am sure you are now curious about what happens behind the curtains between 6pm and 5am every day.

Well, I can say this much- if I was a resident of suburban Argyll Street, I would be more concerned with the goings on behind number 23.

Now, there’s a story.

Reasons I love 'The West Wing'

• The script is incredibly witty and sophisticated. Brilliant one-liners. Great connection between cast members. Amazing amazing amazing writing...... Did I say amazing?

• Although the show deals with American politics (which as a British person I definitely am not familiar with), the storylines always feel accessible. I think this is partly due to the way information is communicated between the White House Staffers. As news travels around the West Wing, the audience is given the opportunity to understand the plot more.

• Nowadays, Hollywood seems to glamorise politics. 'The West Wing' definitely does NOT do this. Glamorise is perhaps the wrong word. What I mean is this: politics and elections are always enveloped in scandal, intrigue and conspiracy. In 'Scandal' for instance, there is a top-secret government organisation, the President of the United States is unfaithful to his wife, the President's Chief of Staff is embroiled in questionable activity, there is an instance of election-rigging and secrets are constantly being dug up then buried again. It's an endless cycle of shock and awe. With 'The West Wing', the mundane running of the country is enough to drive the show along. The show doesn't rely on shady backroom deals and grand plots to overthrow the government. I can't tell you how many times I've been watching an episode, expecting a characters will reveal that he/ she has been bugging an office or has secret footage capturing the enemy in the act. It is extremely refreshing to watch a show and experience the nitty gritty of running a country. That's not to say I'm naiive. I realise that the show is in many ways overly optimistic about politics, but generally the show feels authentic. It reminds me of 'The Office' in that the humdrum nature of life allows for more focus on human relationships.

• As a continuation of the previous point, I love that romantic relationships in 'The West Wing' are not reduced to random romps in the Rose Garden. For instance, I loved the way C.J handled her relationship with Danny. If it was a Hollywood romance, in the first season there would have been a moment with them standing in the rain, and one of them would be giving the other one an ultimatum. Generally, shows make romantic relationships the be all and end all. It would be incredibly reductive and unrealistic. Another great relationship has to be Donna and Josh. If their relationship was written in traditional Hollywood fashion, their relationship would have progressed further a lot quicker and there would have been a lot more heartbreak. Instead, I really appreciated how much their friendship seemed always to come before anything else. And the fact that Donna was not Josh's assistant when they finally got together was important because it meant they were equals and I love that she points that out to him. I love that Donna is the one that takes the reins after being his assistant for so long. Otherwise I think there would be a real danger of imbalance. And how can I forget the President and the First Lady- a great example of a turbulent but strong and fulfilling marriage. There are so many moments where their ability to work together whilst being independent and true to themselves is inspiring and moving. There is an equality in their relationship that is humbling and beautiful to watch.

• As well as the romantic relationships. friendships in 'The West Wing' are incredibly varied and complex- in the best way. Toby, Josh and Sam are a great example. There is brotherly tough love with the most brutal honesty. That scene where Toby confronts Sam about Laurie is so well constructed. I love how the characters are all so unflinchingly themselves. Leo and Jed are the epitome of bromance. I love that the first time we hear Leo call POTUS by his name is when he reminds the President of their aim in getting into the White House, just after Mandy's report becomes public. It was extremely powerful and as a viewer I could feel that honesty coming from Leo in that scene. And finally, the napkin- 'Bartlett for President'- is an amazing motif throughout the show. It doesn't get more symbolic than that!

• Speaking of Leo, I have so much respect for Sorkin for not glamorising (yes, I've used that word again) his alcohol and valium addiction. The show gave viewers insight into the difficulties of being an addict but I appreciate how the addiction is just a part or element of Leo's life- it's not his entire life. Leo's line 'I don't understand people who have just one drink' hit me hard when I heard it the first time. It's so incredibly honest and it made addiction easier for me to understand. Sorkin's writing just does that for you!

• The minor characters. I don't mean to use the word minor in a way that diminishes the characters I'm referring to. I think Sorkin is the king of the minor character. Margaret is the best example of this. Her randomness and oh my god, that moment when Margaret breaks the internet by sending out an email to the entire White House. That sums it up. TV gold.

There are soooooo many other reasons why the show is amazing but these were a few of my personal favourites!

T