Ursa Major Ursa Minor

He was my bear, a hulk, a mess of a man. Dark hair, sharp claws digging deep into my honey-hair. There was always a little part of me that was afraid of him, one swipe and my face would be slashed, my chest bruised, my arms aching. But he never hit me, not once. I had been with men like that, sneaking, small looking men. Men who had pinched and scratched my arms, men who hurt me with their sneering words. But my bear, gingerly balanced on his hind legs, his mouth opened in a snarl, never hurt me.

We would play, rolling through pine needles and mud. Sometimes it got a little rough, but he knew when to stop, he never took my ‘yes’ for granted. I was shorter than him, shorter than most people, so he was always careful. Yet, he did not treat me like a little piece of porcelain, easily broken and shattered. He knew a girl like me wasn’t like that. He could toy with me, make me get dirty knees and rough fingertips. I knew I was more beautiful now than I had ever been, leaves and grass caught in my hair, grime under my nails, clothes ripped and muscles lean and strong.

I did like our den, hidden away, south facing. A sweet scent of pine and the river, where he would go daily and get us fish, or hunt through the woods and bring back rabbit or deer. He always enjoyed his meat too rare, it was something I never grew to like. I would keep our cave clean, most days I had to change our bed; a pile of warm grass, lamb’s wool and herbs scattered amongst our bedding to keep the bugs out. Sometimes I’d decorate the cave with flowers, finding places for them in chipped mugs and glass jars. The bear wasn’t too keen on those, if he’d see them he’d just shrug his shoulders and grunt. I think secretly he liked my touches.

Then it was night, darkness creeping into the forest a lot quicker than in the town. The trees ink black spikes standing against a backdrop of navy blue night sky. There were so many stars here, I asked the bear to teach me their names. He only taught me two, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.
“What about the rest?” I said.

“They’re just stars, what does it matter? They don’t do anything.”

“But some people say…”

 “Some people say a lot of things, don’t think they’re right by any means.” he rolled onto his back, while I twisted my fingers in his hair.

“You’re stubborn.” I smiled.

 He turned his head to look at me, “Well noted, my girl.”

I traced the curve of his ear, “I love you, my bear.”

 He grunted and shut his eyes as though he would sleep, though his smile was honey sweet. I knew he would never say it. “Sleep girl.” he said.

“Goodnight, bear.”

He chuckled and buried his nose into my hair.

He got caught in the glen, an iron trap catching his leg and making him howl with pain. I heard him and dropped my basket; smears of red berries on my feet, where I stepped on the fallen fruit. I ran through the woods, my heart thumping painfully and my muscles burning. I crouched down when I saw them, the men with their guns and laughing smiles, the dogs barking and pouncing at my bear. One man walked forward, the low brim of his cap hiding his face,

“Where’s the girl?”

“I don’t know.”

I flinched when the man slammed his boot into my love’s face, the bones crunched underneath and my bear spat out blood.

“Where is she?” the man hissed.

“I don’t know.” growled my bear. He stared the man down, hands tightening into fists.

“Well,” the man smirked, “She won’t survive for long without you, will she?”

My bear didn’t look at him, “She’s a lot tougher than you think, dog.”

I did not feel very strong when his head whipped round at the force of the man’s punch, my poor bear’s lip was split, his nose broken and still he looked up at the man.

“We’ll go, the little fool can starve.”

I watched them leave. A crow cawed at the darkening sky and I felt the cold silence of the wood press down on my ears. I didn’t wait to hear my bear howl. I followed the twilight creeping along the paths in the forest. I bit my lip hard, till a dribble of blood ran down my chin. The first thing he taught me was to keep walking. I kept walking till I couldn’t hear or see or feel anything. The world was dead. So was my bear.

The Arts Aren't Important

Of course they aren't, they don't provide any value to society, they don't feed children or help the poor. The artists don't cure the sick or help the unemployed. They don't develop new technologies, medicines or fix the economy. What a fucking waste of time. The arts serve no purpose, if we had no arts we could continue as a society, we could still function. We wouldn't be wasting money on pointless art galleries or theatres, that really no one wants to go to.
And yet...if it is such a waste of time then why do we keep talking about the arts? Why does the Government and high ranking figures in Education insist, almost all the time, that the arts are a waste of time? They constantly tell us Universities and Businesses don't respect the arts, the arts don't pay well. If you tell family members you want a profession within the arts you get people raising their eyebrows, or look like they pity you, or they even voice their fears aloud.

"How will you make a living?"

"There aren't many jobs in that field."

"Perhaps something more secure would be more worthwhile."

And you have thought about these things and recognise the difficulties, if you've come this far, perhaps joining choirs, youth theatres, reading clubs or writing groups, practicing an instrument or sketching each night; having gone to University to study an art, and you're now facing the deep, dark pool of an unknown future within that field. You know how hard it can be, but you're willing to take the risks and push yourself all the way. You've watched friends and peers decide it's too hard, they can't go the distance, they aren't willing to push themselves through rejection, disappointment and frustration. The work is harder than expected, the criticism and refusals more difficult to cope with. And you are constantly reminded how worthless your degree is, how stupid your every day practice is, how useless the arts are.

But why? Society can survive on purely a basic level, if we stripped our societies of the arts, our bookshelves empty, our TVs blank, our magazines and newspapers empty white pages; our theatres, music halls, art galleries, libraries and cinemas all closed, we could exist. But what kind of existence? How much joy and hope could we find out in life? We would huddle in our homes and workplaces, grey and empty, there would be no pictures on the walls of course! It would be quiet, dull and then someone down the corridor would begin telling a funny story about what happened on Tuesday night, between so-and-so and so-and-so. People would gather, and laugh, and that person would be known as someone who could tell an excellent joke. They wouldn't know it, but they would be a storyteller.

And this is why the arts aren't important. Or why the Government wants the arts to be unimportant. When people gather to listen to a story, or even watch a dramatic retelling of a story. Or they sit alone and read a story, that does not always complies with the status quo and can suggest new ideas, ideas that are not Government approved, then there is danger and rebellion. When an Artist paints a picture, and people gasp with horror, or a film depicts an uncomfortable truth, that's the true working of Art. Sometimes, rather than having someone stand on a box and shout above the crowd, the arts can reveal the same thing and an audience will listen.

The Arts represent danger and truth, and if a Government can persuade us into thinking they are worthless and stupid, then people will start believing that. The truth is, we can survive without the Arts. However, we cannot live without them.

Pork and Venison Meatballs with Pasta

More deliciousness from the Hobbit at Home! This was a really good invented recipe made for my boyfriend and myself. We had left over venison burger, leftover sausages and leftover pizza sauce. So we were in a bit of a quandary of what to make for dinner, until someone on TV happened to mention meatballs! At this point my boyfriend's eyes lit up. So we put on a pan of pasta. I'm not going to be precise about how much we used, really make as much or as little as you need, the sauce and meatballs make enough for about four people though (we yet again have more leftovers)!
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First of all make a small bowlful of pizza sauce. Roughly about half a cereal bowl size is what you will need.

Pizza Sauce Ingredients
- Passata ~ For something like pizza, canned tomatoes tend to be too watery and tomato puree is too thick. So I go for Passata as it has the right consistency.
- 1 tsp Mixed Herbs ~ Go for Italian or just normal.
- Salt & Pepper ~ To Taste
- 1 tsp Paprika
- BBQ sauce ~ Optional.

Method:
Pour in enough passata sauce to fill half a cereal bowl. Add about 1tsp of BBQ sauce, the herbs, salt and pepper and paprika. Mix and viola!
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Now make the meatballs.

Meatballs Ingredients
- Four sausages (without the skin) ~ You can go for any you like, we just used basic pork. But that's what we had in the fridge at the time.
- One venison burger ~ Again, this is what we had in my fridge, but if you know of somewhere that does good venison mince use about a small handful. You may need to add some more herbs and seasoning to boost up the flavour of the meatballs.
- 1 tsp Smoked Paprika - I'm sorry, I'm a big Paprika lover and I love Smoked Paprika even more! If I can find a way to use Paprika, smoked or otherwise, in any recipe, then I will do! If it's not to your taste feel free to omit it. But it gives a lovely, smokey flavour to the meatballs.
- 1tsp of Mixed Herbs
- Salt and Pepper to taste

Method:
I make my meatballs by hand, because I lack the technology to do otherwise. But if you are so fortunate to have a mixer to do the work for you, then I envy you. But I do think it's easier to control the distribution of the herbs and spices within the meat, if you do it by hand.

First just break up the sausage and venison meat, then add the herbs and spices, mix well into the mince meat. Form into meatballs, you can decide on size, whether you prefer your balls big or small, just have a play around!
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Finally we get to the pasta and the pasta sauce. So make however much pasta you need. Now onto the pasta sauce.

Pasta Sauce Ingredients
- 1 can of Chopped Tomatoes
- 1 small Onion
- Handful of Spinach ~ My boyfriend would say omit the spinach, but I love spinach and being healthy.
- Pizza sauce ~ See above
- 1 tsp Mixed Herbs
- 1 tsp Smoked Paprika
- 1 tsp of Sugar
- 1 tsp of Salt
- Salt and Pepper to taste ~ The extra Salt can be optional.

Method:
Heat a large frying pan or Wok with oil. Dice the onion. Having prepared the meatballs add them to the frying pan and brown one one side first, then gently turn over to prevent from falling apart. Add the onion and fry gently.

Add the pizza sauce and the chopped tomatoes to the pan, and turn the heat up slightly, till you have a low boil. But keep an eye on it. Add the salt and sugar to combat the acidicness of the can. Lower the heat to a simmer and go watch some crappy reality TV for 10-15 mins or so, till the sauce has thickened slightly. Add the herbs, spices and spinach. Et voila, pour the sauce and meatballs over your pasta. And Enjoy!

Why I Became a Pagan

I get this question a lot, both from Pagans and Non-Pagans. Pagans tend to ask because it often leads to some interesting insights into a person's background, hobbies, beliefs, experiences and so forth. Non-Pagans tend to ask because they want to know why you decided to sign up to the Devil's email address! I am, of course, joking. Non-Pagans tend to ask because they often know very little about Paganism and are curious.

In all my experience with other Pagans, I've tended to see a good deal more thought and time spent on making a decision to be a Pagan. If you asked me why I became a Christian, I would say I didn't really have much choice in the matter. I attended a Church of England primary school, I sung hymns daily, read from the Bible and said my prayers. Everyone else was doing it and for the other Non-Christian kids they had to stay outside the Hall. Sometimes I thought they were lucky not to have to attend boring assemblies. Only now do I appreciate how lonely and isolating those times must have been for them. My religious education (if it can be called that!) was severely lacking. I know very little about Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism and a multitude of smaller faiths. The only thing I remember from primary school was a story about the Prophet Muhammad comforting a crying Camel, and then drawing a picture of that (which I have since learned you are not meant to do...Sorry).

When I went onto secondary school it did not get much better, more attention was paid to the stories of the Hindu religion, a basic view of Sikhism and constant Christianity throughout. As fascinating and beautiful as those stories are, and as interesting as Sikhism was, I would've preferred learning something more about the basic principles of all the religions. I live in a country with a wide range of different religions and cultures, the fact I know so little about any of them feels rather shaming to me.

But I digress, I'll return to my main explanation. There is rarely one reason why a person chooses to become a Pagan. Everyone will walk down a different path and take different ways. Being a Pagan, well being any minority, is often difficult and complex. There is no right or wrong way to discover Paganism or to be a Pagan. But first I shall give some simple reasons as to why and then go into more depth further along.

• My Family
• My Reading
• My Experiences as a Christian
• My Experiences as a Atheist/Agnostic

My Family

My father originally came from a Catholic background, with accordance to his Anglo-Irish heritage. I am unsure where along the lines he decided to abandon his Catholic faith, but he has always been fascinated by science. He is a firm believer in evolution, the big bang and gravity. He's always taught me to respect nature, to take long walks, to appreciate where the food on the dinner table comes from. Knowing that food doesn't start out as nice slabs of pink meat wrapped in plastic, is the start of respecting the Earth and what she provides. 

He is rather critical of the Catholic Church due to the negative influence of the Church in Ireland. My Great-great Aunt was taken into a Catholic children's home, at the age of thirteen. We believe she was abused by the local Priest, became pregnant and was, of course, branded as a whore and blamed for her sinful nature. We know the nuns treated her awfully and forced her to give up the child. She was rescued by her sister, brought to England and it was never mentioned by my family again till much later.

My mother hasn't had much religious influence in her life. While my Granny has moments of suddenly remembering what a conservative Christian she is (I got in trouble for saying OMG!), they're both feminists, pro-choice, liberals. I've grown up around incredible, strong women. Half the time it's exhilarating and the rest terrifying, but it has made me who I am today and I will always be grateful for that. It got me the title of 'opinionated bitch who always has to be right.' or as I like to call it 'A Feminist'.

This caused a conflict between what I was being taught at home, and what I was being taught at school. While I was being taught at school to be a good girl, keep my legs crossed and wait till marriage, my mum was teaching me you can do whatever you like when you're older, as long as you keep yourself safe and healthy. While I was taught being a Christian was the only right thing to be, my mum and dad were teaching me all other religions were right too and didn't deserved to be belittled. While I wondered why there was slaves, infanticide and holy wars in the Bible, my parents were teaching me all these things were wrong.

My Reading

I read voraciously as a child. I especially adored Fairy Tales and Myths & Legends, I  practically became addicted to Greek and Roman mythology. In my adult life I still enjoy reading mythology, and looking further into historical fiction and fantasy. I've also studied historical periods, essays on psychology, feminism, religion and so on. My reading has fueled my interest further while I progressed through college and then onto university. It has been something that has guided my reading of most texts. My reading of Ancient Greek texts lead to my beliefs in the Ancient Greek Pantheon. While my reading of the Bible highlighted the many issues and problems within, that I was not meant to view as problems when I was a Christian.

My Experiences

When I was a child I was bullied daily, I had petit mal epilepsy and social anxiety. I became heavily reliant on Christianity to save me from my predicament. At first my beliefs guided me to think that as I was such a good Christian that I should be saved, that I was deserving of saving. If Christians had to suffer then I was certainly suffering, therefore I would receive God's grace. I prayed every night, asking God to bless my mother, my father, my brother, to feed the hungry, heal the sick and to stop the bullies who found every possible way to make my life miserable. When this didn't happen my thought then turned to whether I had done something wrong. Perhaps even in a past life. God was punishing me because I had been wicked and I deserved what was happening. Even now as I write this, this train of thought seems absolutely fucking crazy. But it led me, combined with the bullying and the tiring and emotionally draining medication I was on, to become suicidal. I was nine years old and I believed God wanted me to feel that way. But I had no way out, as suicide was a sin.


Just before I left my school I decided God was not answering my prayers, there was no God willing to help me and so I became an Atheist at the age of ten. On my last day of school I received a Bible and I couldn't help thinking, as I shook my headteacher's hand, 'How ironic!' I left school and realised there was no one to help me, bar myself, my friends and my family. I could not rely on any God, I had to rely on myself. This is something I've taken beyond being an Atheist, as a Pagan I still see it as vitally important that a person is able to rely on themselves and not seek out some grand metaphysical being to deal with all their problems. But being a Pagan has taught me so much, that being a Christian did not. I've learnt that loving myself is not a sin of pride, but a necessary way of being happy with myself and others. I've learnt to be more open with other people's faiths, to not feel haughty and proud because my faith is apparently the right one! I am one faith among many others, that share the same name with mine. Paganism is just one religion among many, and no one is entirely right or entirely wrong. It has taught me the Earth isn't my inheritance, but a gift and one that needs a lot of care with help from everyone, not just other Pagans. And that is why I became a Pagan.

Saving Mr Banks (or why I cry whenever I see this film)

So while this film was released a while ago, I only got to see it in Easter with my brother. I'd never really heard of P. L. Travers, though I'm sure much to her chagrin, I had watched the Disney version of Mary Poppins and always loved it. Unlike many Disney films it is the one that holds a really special place in my heart, because whenever I went to see my granny, I would always watch Mary Poppins at her house. I was never an entire convert to Disney, unlike some of my friends. I wasn't keen on Sleeping Beauty, because I loved the original ballet, I never really watched Cinderella or Snow White, I only like Beauty and the Beast, because Belle read books and so did I!

Perhaps it's because I've always liked tragedy in stories, that the Little Mermaid left me unimpressed (where was the suicide? Where was the true heartbreak?) and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, became a Disney film I hated (the witchhunts, the madwoman, the nonacceptance of society of sexual relationships outside marriage, were all wiped out). You would be forgiven in calling me strange or even precocious, but then I adored Grimm fairy tales and Greek myths and legends when I was younger, so in many ways I can easily understand Travers' disgust of Disney's sweetening of traditional fairytales and the lessons to children that all they need is 'a spoonful of sugar!'

I'm not denying that there is something good about innocence and acceptance, which many children have, but there does seem to be now a bit of a backlash towards some of the more sugary, sweet stories. We have Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, the Hobbit and even some of the Disney films are getting darker in tone. Mary Poppins (film) still dealt with a distant father, too concerned with making money and keeping order, to really notice his children. The version of Mary Poppins in the book is rather different from the film version, who Travers certainly considered too trivial and sweet. But perhaps one of the things in the Mary Poppins film was how easy it was to identify with the film's protagonists. I have a younger brother, a feminist mother and at one point a father who became very distant from me and my brother.

With Saving Mr Banks this theme of redeeming a relationship with a father, became even more applicable to me. I certainly enjoyed the brilliant acting of Emma Thompson (Pamela Travers) and the witty one liners in the script, but what makes me weep without fail is Pamela's past with her family, and her father especially. For me, I can watch a dozen romances without shedding a tear, because I have not been in a similar situation and I always need to emotionally identify with a film before I cry. Having learnt a little more about the truthful account of Travers and her relationship with Disney, I realise there's a fair bit of sweetening, and bias in Disney's favour, for the sake of a happy ending. But I didn't expect an entirely truthful depiction, because this a biopic and not a documentary. And I am perfectly fine with that, because the story and acting are wonderful.

During my childhood, I had admired my father a lot, he is intelligent, creative and inventive. He taught me about birdwatching, gardening, read me stories and even made them up at times. He encouraged my imagination, my learning and my playtime. In the same way Pamela Travers/Helen Goff shares a similar relationship with her father. He has all the time in the world for her, loves her and urges her to pursue whatever it is she wishes to accomplish. But the need to make money at the bank he works at, and the sinking depression Travers Goff fell into, sours this relationship and those of the family.

The same happened to my family, soon my father was making money because he needed to, not because he wanted to. After every family outing or day out shared with my father I was expected to count every penny we had spent, even if I didn't want to, because I wanted to enjoy the day we had spent together. Sadly, this also happened around my teenage years, so I began to have less and less to do with my father. While I don't blame anyone, Pamela's feelings of guilt, reminded me of my own, because I winded up spending very little time with my father. When I watched the film I was reminded how much I had loved and respected my dad, but through our own mistakes we had driven each other away. Saving Mr Banks concerns the saving of all fathers, either if they mistakenly put money before their children's happiness or forget their own happiness with a need to make money. As the Sherman brothers so succinctly, and ironically, put:

You're a man of high position,

Esteemed by your peers.

And when your little tykes are crying,

You haven't time to dry their tears,

And see them grateful little faces,

Smiling up at you,

Because their dad, he always knows

Just what to do. 

You've got to grind, grind, grind,

At that grindstone,

Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve,

And all too soon they've up and grown,

And then they've flown,

And it's too late for you to give,

Just that spoonful of sugar,

To help the medicine go down.

Pamela Travers certainly had a difficult past, which she tried (and in many ways failed) to hide away. I think really she didn't want a film to be made at all, and when it had to be, made the process as difficult as possible through her many complaints. Partly because of psychological trauma, partly loyalty to her books, but mostly because she wanted to. But for me the film means a whole lot more than a woman making a fuss over the movie interpretation of her book. It's the closest a film has come to representing my childhood and knowing I've been lucky to still have a chance to continue loving and admiring my dad, and knowing he still loves and admires me.

No1 Annoying Thing about Sex

Today my friend was reading out a list, from a Metro article '27 things men do in bed that women hate', about all the many annoying things men do during sex. I couldn't help rolling my eyes and sighing out loud. But today I did manage to think of the most annoying thing I find concerning sex, which effects everyone.

1. Writing an article about all the annoying sex habits your partner has, instead of actually talking to them about it.

Delicate egos and one night stands aside, most men I've come across have been more than willing to make sure I was ok and enjoying every minute. If you're in a long term relationship with someone, then they should be aware of what makes you happy and what makes you unhappy. If you're too worried about whether their cock will shrivel up and die, by suggesting you don't like your hair being pulled, then maybe you should reconsider your attitude towards the relationship or theirs.

Plus any list that groups together heterosexual females in one category determining whether they like or dislike certain sexual activities, is rarely a good idea. For one, I have no problem with putting a man's condom on him or him asking whether I like something...Um, women of Metro, isn't that the whole problem? That these men don't ask you whether you like certain things. So here's my response.

1. Online Porn Site Sex Position - If they're so keen to do this, discuss it before you wind up doing a headstand or if you find something uncomfortable, just say so.

2. What face do I pull? - Well hopefully you'll be in the throws of pure pleasure. Or hell, just whatever comes naturally.

3. When they ask YOU to put the condom on - Just deal with it, like the mature, sexy woman you are. You don't want to get pregnant, condoms aren't particularly comfortable for men and if you've come this far then realise you're both part and parcel of this.

4. Spanking - Saying 'Ow, that hurt.' tends to work. Unless you enjoy D/S or BDSM, but if you do you should have an alternative safe word.

5. When they stop - You're not going to get a vaginal orgasm every time, so don't worry too much about this. Don't blame each other. If you have the stamina, have a rest and see if you can continue.

6. Asking “do you like that?” - I fail to see the problem here. He's being nice. Jesus, give the guy some slack!

7. Gag reflect - Hand at the base of the penis, means even if he pushes your head further down, you still have control.

8. Stripping - You're one sexy lady, maintain eye contact, smile confidently, laugh if you make a mistake. More you worry about it, the worse it gets.

9. Online Reading - See No.1

10. Bum - See No.1/No.4

11. Dragging it out - See No.6

12. Going down on you in the morning - Say you're not in the mood and suggest showering together.

13. Putting their fingers everywhere - Pull his hands to a particular place on your body or ask him to touch you somewhere.

14. Sticking objects in you - See No.1/No.4

15. Anal Sex - See No.1/No.4

16. Aggressive Foreplay - See No.1/No.4

17. Nipple biting - See No.4

18. Pulling your hair - See No.4

19. Baggy boxers - Whoop Xmas Present.

20. Man stubble - If it's uncomfortable, tell him.

21. 69 - See No.1 Tell the truth.

22. Fried chicken before a blow job - Um...avoid fried chicken before bed?

23. Rushing foreplay/27 seconds - See No.1/No.5/Tell him.

24. Wanting to ejaculate on your face - See No.1

25. Being passive aggressive when they can’t make you orgasm - See No.5

26. Trying to remove underwear with their teeth - Ok...that's kind of weird. But maybe it floats some people's boats.

27. Not cleaning properly - Shower/bathe together. Two birds, one stone!

Point is, sometimes these things may turn some people on and sometimes they won't. If something is bothering you, then just freaking tell your partner. Do it nicely, but sheesh! If you want them to stop doing something, they're not going to read your fucking mind and realise you don't like it. If you feel uncomfortable broaching the topic of sex, then maybe you should consider your whole relationship to sex. Sex is and should be wonderful, it can be passionate, loving, hot as hell, it can also be awkward and funny. But it shouldn't be painful or uncomfortable for very long. Do yourself and your partner a favour by being honest with what you want, what you like and what you don't like. It pays off in the end.

A New Era for Women and Disney?

Frozen has become central for debates regarding feminism, a potential new era for Disney and dividing people down the line. So what I'm here to argue is...it's a middle ground. I'm not going to argue it's really revolutionary, because how long do we have to wait before we get both a decent strong female character and a strong plot? We seem to get stuck in a situation of either/or and it's frustrating. There have been loads of great Disney/Pixar films regarding male leads and their adventures, e.g Wreck it Ralph, Ratatouille, Toy Story. But when it comes to female leads and their adventures, the plots tend to fall flat or rely on the old 'and they fall in love and live happily ever after.' trope.

There's something that's always bugged me about Brave, for example, and up until recently I couldn't quite work out what that was. Then I sort of realised. Despite the ending culminating in Merida forming a better relationship with her mother and her mother letting her hair down (pun entirely intended!), we're still being taught that a girl with an adventurous, bold streak will end up being in trouble. Brave has the two wonderful characters of Merida and Elinor, it questioned the bond between mother and daughter, but had this been about a boy seeking acceptance from his father I can't help thinking the plot would have been different. Would he be almost 'punished' for his adventurous, daring streak? And as usual we get the whole marriage theme (albeit Merida not wanting to marry at all).

But her adventure falls flat, because in reality she doesn't change her fate at all. The will o' the whisps and the witch do. Yes, she might have avoided the loathsome issue of marriage, but when we really think about it, Merida has no real say over her journey. In a similar vein to Ratatouille, Merida wants to go on an adventure to find out more about the world, her passions in life and the choices she has to make. But unlike Remy, she really ends up with little say about this, because rather than the adventure being important, it is still her family and her responsibilities as a Princess that are important, not Merida herself. Does she wind up with the choice to remain single? For some reason, I doubt it. Young MacGuffin's apparent gibberish in the film, is actually Scottish Gaelic, and what he does say at one point is 'The Princess should decide who she marries.' This may imply that despite Merida's timely escape from marriage for now, she will still have to marry someone in the future. Because the stability of the surrounding kingdoms rely on her eventually becoming a brood mare.

Another issue I'm taking with Disney films is the amount of boys. I appreciate that may sound wrong, but let's look at every single heroine who has had to be surrounded by a gang of guys (or at least male gendered counterparts). Rapunzel, from Tangled, had Flynn/Eugene, Pascal and Maximus; Tiana, from the Princess and the Frog, had Prince Naveen, Louis and Ray; Pocahontas had John Smith, Flit and Meeko; Anna, from Frozen, had Kristoff, Sven and Olaf...hmm, I'm noticing a pattern here! It's apparently impossible for a female lead to get from A to B, without one potential love interest and two goofy sidekicks. No way we can drop just one for a female sidekick? Who could talk maybe? No...? Ok.

But it does mean, apart from one, often naive or even foolish woman, that young girls have no one to identify with. Even those females with a grain of sense and determination are seen as foolish. Tiana is told her dream of owning a restaurant won't mean anything without a man at her side. Whether she met someone or not, I am certain her father would be damn proud of her. I felt cold, when her exclamation of needing to work harder to gain her dream, was treated with ridicule. Her hard work and no nonsense attitude should be seen as admirable, not as idiotic. We shouldn't regard Tiana as lacking something, because she has no romantic inclination at the time. If we compare it with another film, regarding the same desire of owning a restaurant and cooking. Ratatouille focuses more or less on Remy's desire to cook. Yes, he's told he's a fool, but he defends his dream to the hilt. But the thing is I don't recall Remy being told his dream of owning his restaurant would mean nothing without a female rat by his side.