I know I literally just told a tale of Amsterdam, but I feel that there may not be enough out there on the Internet, and believe it or not, eating banana out of a sex performer is probably not the funniest thing to happen to me in the Netherlands.
I seem to like going to Amsterdam. A good European jaunt is always required, and I do try and make it to Europe at least once a year to escape England without too much effort, mainly heading out with the aforementioned pal with whom I went to Berlin (and we totally got into Berghain…). Continue reading “how not to do amsterdam”
If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear
– George Orwell Continue reading “#JeSuisCharlie”
As hard as we try to avoid it, winter comes along once a year and brings with it a massive batch of horrible colds. For the less-than-graceful among us (me), that means a week of sniffling, complaining loudly to anyone who will listen and sometimes even some crocodile tears to persuade people to do stuff for me.
The way in which us Brits handle a cold is hilarious. It’s like man-flu for everyone; we all know it’s nothing serious but we still act like our world is ending. I’ve actually just recovered from one such cold (just in time for New Year’s beveraging, get in). It was the usual story, waking up feeling like some wanker has filled your head with cotton wool while you were in the land of nod. Continue reading “words of wisdom for people who can’t handle a cold (like me)”
So the jolly old folks over at TFL have decided that the people of London have got too much cash on their hands, so they’ve done the only decent thing they could think of and popped their prices up. What lovely people they truly are, may their lives be filled with sunshine and happiness and may they live on in trainline heaven for eternity.
What the fuck! As if living in London isn’t expensive enough, hoisting the price of a mere off-peak travelcard from eight-ninety to a staggering twelve English pounds is just an absolute pile of shite really, isn’t it Boris. Continue reading “some more london travel angst: 2015’s new fares”
So I know its a bit of a revolting subject, but I suffer pretty badly from rank skin. Last year, around September time, my body decided to go into meltdown just in time for my final year of uni (cheers) and I developed an awful skin condition which still goes undiagnosed by the so-called professionals of various doctors surgeries/walk-ins in Sheffield. Continue reading “sudocrem is life”
Is anyone else an avid sleep-talker?
At the risk of talking about one of the most boring subjects on the planet, I’m going to talk once again about myself (shock) and about the issues I have with sleep-talking.
Now when we’re asleep, we’re supposedly off in another world; Dumbledore would have us think that “in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own”. Dreams boggle my mind, quite frankly, as I just don’t get which part of the mind dictates how many times my subconscious self can pine for donuts and snogs with Ron Weasley. Continue reading “bedtime romance”
I was going to write this yesterday but I was in a hole of a New Year’s hangover food coma, after scranning down on just about anything in sight throughout the day. It’s 2015!!! ‘Appy days. I hope you all had spectacular evenings full of strippers and champers and falling arse-over-tit in the street. Continue reading “happy new year!!”
So tomorrow is the last day of 2014, and it’s time to gear up for all of the ‘new year, new me’ statuses. I know I might seem a bit down on the old status writers at present but positivity never made for a good read in my experience.
Anyway, tomorrow marks New Year’s Eve, a time for spending extortionate amounts of money on champers and getting bevvied up to ring in 2015, and it’s set to be pretty sweet. Being from a small city where everyone does the same thing week in week out in the same places, I’ve been used to standing around outside on NYE, waiting for a mis-timed countdown to let us all know it’s time to hug and smooch anyone and everyone in sight, to then realise that it is, in fact, still only 11.57. Continue reading “getting fruity on new year’s eve”
So the shortest day of the year has been and gone, and Christmas dinner feels like it was about two weeks ago, and that means one thing: it’s practically summer. Come to think of it, it was actually pretty mafting in the run-up to Crimbo; global warming treating east London to a toasty 13 degrees of your finest celsius in mid-December! You what.
So as I’m heading back to work after Christmas, and realising that it is in fact almost time for Summer, I’m thinking about just how many fucking Ibiza statuses the internet is going to have to put up with over the coming months. The way in which people have altered their lives to become drug-hounding deep-house-skanking Ibiza ravers is beyond me; the UK has literally gone mad. Continue reading “summer is coming”
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, it really is. If I could give 15 year-old me a quick call or a WhatsApp just to tell her to step away from the cake and avoid that English Literature degree then I would, but 15 year-old me would probably just tell me to fucking do one.
Each and every year of school, like many others before me, I’d convince myself that I was wicked cool. I’d untuck my school shirt, wear offensive pink eyeshadow and hang out on the basketball courts eating the aforementioned cake with a kind of self-assurance you grow out of towards the end of your teens. In actual fact, I was part of a crew of girls who were quite cool, and as the fat funny one of the group I’d hope I wasn’t quite as hated by everyone as the popular girls tend to be, but I probably was. We were probably only popular amongst ourselves. Continue reading “stay in school kids”