Latest Watford Blogs from the Watford Observer

My name is Claire Maxwell and I am an aspiring Journalist. Currently doing my A Levels via distance learning and finding myself yearning for a shot at my true passion; writing! I am opinionated and outspoken and anyone following me in the 'Land of Twitter' will certainly concur. Ultimately I would like to go into TV Journalism and perhaps have a go at writing a novel. I have much to say about many things and I'm sure you'll catch onto my waves very shortly. The very-easily-offended will perhaps not enjoy my writing, but open your mind and, just maybe, you'll manage a slight chuckle...

The NTA's. (Anyone else surprised Cowell's mug didn't appear more often?)

The National Television Awards annually document the many outstanding contributions to British television. It is a time when each of the mainstream channels are able to come together and freely discuss programmes across the board without the concern for publicising the competition. I, for one, find it terribly odd seeing Tess Daly, Len Goodman etc in the same room as Simon Cowell and his minions. It is almost like eating apple crumble with a splash of gravy; the two should never be put together. However, over all, it was a night for much celebration and camaraderie (except of course for those poor souls who lost out).

Cinnamon Square and its top-notch Make-Over

Slouched in a comfy leather sofa, I settle down with a hot cup of coffee subtly thawing my hand and take a glance around the room. Next door to me is another sofa filled with children, animatedly decorating biscuits with coloured icing and other delectable treats. At the far end of the authentic, beam-filled room is a pair of business men donned in the kind of shiny shoes that make a nice noise when walked in. I would like a pair, but fear they might look slightly odd on me. They are sipping latte's with concerned, important expressions on their faces.

Heather Mills has taken to the ice. But she's got ONE LEG. Didn't you know?

January arrives and we are bombarded with all the talent(?)/reality shows we could ever possibly imagine. I'm pretty sure once they've come up with a programme involving the remaining Jackson 5, a team of accomplished paedophiles/murderers/rapists, the Osborne family, and the cast of Hollyoaks, battling it out in a pub quiz style entertainment programme, they will have covered almost all bases. But for now we are left with the mundanity that is, Celebrity Big Brother, So you think you can Dance?, Popstar to Opera star (and whoever thought of that should be shot), and Dancing on Ice.

Goodbye to the Noughties, it's been a pleasure.

2009 has drawn to a close and, in turn, we have been forced to say goodbye to the Noughties. For me it has been the most memorable of all decades (due to the fact that I have been above the age of eight and so can retain the likes of 'memories'). We have seen a black President be elected in the United States, music and the charts have been taken over by Sir Simon Cowell (I salute you), the 'King of Pop', Michael Jackson tragically passed away, we witnessed the moment Susan Boyle shocked the nation with her beautiful voice and unruly eyebrows, we said farewell to Harry Potter, and most devastatingly of all; Katie Price and Peter Andre split up.

Celebrity Big Brother is back. Aren't we all excited?

Davina is dressed in black, it’s raining, there are banners screaming the words 'GET [add most hated celebrity's name here] OUT!], and a handful of anxious, slightly nauseous celebrities are waiting in some unknown location for the imminent boos that await them. I think we all know what this means. Celebrity Big Brother is back. And it's taking its final curtain call.