If you were here...

winter wouldn't pass so slow...

It's pouring with rain, and after the clocks springing forward last night I thought it was time for summer and getting excited about doing things like eating strawberries on the lawn with a glass of rose, maybe even champagne, as this summer there will be a lot to celebrate. Walking home barefoot and staying up and outside under blankets until the early hours in a debauched state of merriment fuelled by cider and wine. Painting chairs and planting flowers. Talking about guys and going on picnics.


But, it's been raining all day, and I have some big library hours to put in over the comming days; luckily when it got to 7pm it was still light outside.. I was reminded that spring is never really that far away...

we want our film to be beautiful

not realistic..


I had a lovely little visit from my American friend Carey and her friend Jessica on Friday. It was a very nice day. We had a lot to drink. Carey brought me some American treats. The novelty of American things will probably never wear off, I love it all, especially her. She's the best.


Getting up to be at work at 9am after getting to bed at 2.30am completely wasted wasn't enjoyable. I had two thoughts in my head to keep my spirits up.

The first, was this photo:


A favourite of G's, the man in the photo has passed out in the middle of the road, not because of a medical condition, but because he is so hungover. It pleases me that it could be a whole lot worse.

The second; is the mental image of Nathan, a 'grade A' guy in every way possible, serving hot dogs to angry football fans whilst suffering from a hangover.
I love to think of him, contemplating not going in for his mystery work placement to arrive at the stadium and seeing an apron and cap sitting on a chair... knowing the worst was about to come to him. When I say 'grade A' in every way, we're talking the most intelligent and charming human being I know, and of course, one of the most attractive (all of the above are debatable.) He had to wear his apron and cap with a miserable face whilst serving hot dogs on a tiny stand. It's a good thing to focus on, knowing that things very rarely get that bad... and if they do, at least it makes an amusing anecdote to tell friends over half a dozen bottles of cider at the 'Edge.'



Having said all that, I thoroughly enjoy my hangover days. I like the way it gives you an excuse to mope around Sainsbury's whilst incoherently expressing yourself. Some of my best memories of this semester have involved painfully making tea with G, laughing at nothing and everything with hysterical joy of an evening. Then settling down to watch a period drama, (my personal favourite being 'Doctor Zhivago') whilst slathering my face in aqueus cream. Plus, there is no better feeling than going to bed that day. Nothing better.... apart from maybe getting into bed with Dr. Zhivago. 'heyyyyyo!'
I love everything about this televised drama, the scenery, the plot, the characters... Absolutely everything. Enjoy the slightly blurry screen grabs.

I talk out loud..

..like you're still around.



The first post in a long time. Partly because of my restlessness at the excitement of summer, coupled with the loom of my impending dissertation and passport renewal. In between the last of winter underneath warm bed sheets I have mostly been watching period dramas with G, making pizzas and 'mexican breakfasts.' Yesterday we even carted a small shelving device home from our local charity shop and painted it bright blue. It looks very nice.



Latitude festival has also been on my mind. I have managed to change the unfortunate aspect of the festival kicking off on the day I graduate into a desirably positive senario. It will involve a series of road trips, graduation gowns, a lot of wine and no small sandwiches in sight. Cool.


I promise to write something more enthralling once I am sure I can get excited about wearing my vans, oversized teeeeshirts, denim shorts, planting flowers in the garden, drinking jugs of cocktails in the afternoon whilst lying around on picnic blankets and leaving wet bikinis in the bathtub.... Hopefully I will find a worthwhile distraction until then...

'Not a thing to do..

but talk to you...'

I have been watching a lot of 'That 70s Show' recently. I only seem to watch it when I'm back home,it reminds me of being at school. It makes me think of my first boyfriend, who looked like Eric Forman.. ( even though I always did think 'Hyde' was so much cooler.) I don't relate to it as much as I did then... but it still makes me laugh, and I still fancy 'Hyde,' (the curly haired chap.)

TOOTHPASTE KISSES.

Since posting a small picture of a slug in my bathroom a week or two ago, I have been inundated with requests to see more of my bathroom. At first I refused, but who am I to deny my public. So here we are.... some pictures of my bathroom. The first in a series; how to make your tiny, mouldy, drafty student house a beautiful, cosy home for four.








There is a permanent chill in here. So, to make showering a warming and comforting affair, blasting the shower with close to scalding water and filling the tiny room with steam has become compulsory... So has drying off quickly with a warm towel and piling on layers of comfy cotton clothes and wrapping up in a toasty dressing gown.
All winter I have been been coveting cosy, woody smelling soaps instead of those fresh critrus scents of summer....
The generally cool bathroom is better suited for summer. I'm looking forward to peeking out of the window while showering and watching the steam escape, and mid afternoon showering in luke warm water to cool off after sunbathing. Having said that.. I still plan on making the most of my chilly February showers. There's something ever so pleasant about my sweet little refreshing bathroom.

Kate Moss Jacket

...Said have you heard this sound.?


I bought this jacket the other week. If it even looks half as good on me as it does on her.... then I will be happy. I like to wear it with leggings and my giant flannel shirt.


A more indepth post to follow, once I have completed my busy university week. Sound good?

Sold my red horse for a venture home

To vanish on the bow --

Settling slow


Back in Norwich. And not a moment too soon. I arrived back here last Thursday amidst a national crisis due to the higher than average snow fall Britain experienced. This compromised my travel plans, made me 45minutes late for work and made it unavoidable for me to haul my suitcase halfway across Norwich in the snow. But, I'm here now. And the snow really wasn't as bad as the news broadcasters scared me into believing.

Over the past week, I returned to university for my weekly three hour seminar. A seemingly simple task which resulted in a series of manic phone calls, and various other calamities...
Having spent the best part of the day indulging in studious behaviour me and Grace embarked on a journey home, stopping on the way at the 'co-op,' to stock up on supplies of juice and toilet roll. Whilst on the jaunt home, we realised one very large error, neither of us had our keys. We were locked out and, at that very moment one housemate was on a train to London and the other was tucked in the library for the foreseeable future. Several frantic phone calls later, and I had explained the scenario to my boss, who gave me the afternoon off work, yet still no contact with Anna. There was nothing else to do besides head towards the nearest pub, 'the fat cat.'

We must have looked like quite a sight to the old 'fisherman' types who reside there of a late Thursday afternoon. We took two seats at the bar and marvelled at the extremely hearty selection of beer. After two samples of cider we both settled on fruit beer, which went down very smoothly in a dimly lit corner. It was over an hour later, and still no word from Anna, when we anxiously decided to head back. Labouring down Dereham Road whilst I clutched at my 12 rolls of toilet roll and Grace at her three cartons of juice, our sanity began to diminish; we began discussing whether the heavy footed, chunky legged woman marching ahead of us was Anna, a daft thought, yet one which seemed feasible. Upon returning to our little house we made some more phone calls and banged on the door, still no reply. Thankfully, our neighbours accepted our refuge.

Once next door, the friendly neighbours did all they could to make us feel comfortable. Had the pair of them been over 5ft tall this event would have been far less ridiculous. They weren't. It is very rare for me to stand taller than a person, let alone tower over them. The friendly neighbour, Bob, explained how he had spent half the mid afternoon talking to Anna, an exaggeration, I am sure. Yet, in a blind fit of rage me and Grace tore through their house and lept over the back gate, where we found our own backdoor unlocked and a confused Anna, who had not looked at her phone for a good two hours.
All's well that ends well. I had the eve off work and went to the pub. Anna made risotto for tea, but I still haven't forgiven her.