For once in my forsaken life, I managed to watch the clocks go back at 2am this morning.

I can’t say it was as iconic as seeing in the new year, but there was a certain air about the place.

Mainly due to the cats poorly timed sulphuric wind-passing.

I quite fancied recording my thoughts on the day of the clock change as I feel it is something that happens twice a year,  and something no one ever gives a real frig over.

Granted it could be the 4 day-old left over Spaghetti Bolognese I ate yesterday, or the old hormones, but something does feel different today.

Is it the time shift?

Is it the fact it’s a damn sight colder?

I don’t know, but it definitely feels more like Autumn/Winter.

And that’s fine by me.

However, what isn’t fine by me, is how quickly said time seems to be passing these days.

Everyone’s saying it.

And the more I think about it, the more I realise how little I’m achieving.

How little I’m getting done in my life. How little I’m enjoying ‘time’.

Days, months, years are just merging into one and nothing feels special anymore.

I live in a constant fear of what’s around the corner so much, that I lose sight of how precious the present is.

And for someone who has studied Buddhism, that’s quite embarrassing.

It’s 2017 (fast approaching 2018) and I don’t know if, as a race, humans have really grasped the concept of time.

And how it cannot be reset, travelled back to, fast forwarded…

Paused while you get your shit together…

Our earthly clocks are ticking constantly while we figure things out, get drunk, eat Burger King, feel resentful at our Amazon delivery taking a little longer to get to us than usual.

Jeez, trust me, if I could turn back time and right all my eff-up’s and change decisions then I would because I’m not one of those lucky buggers who claim they regret nothing.

I regret a lot.

And that is how it’s meant to be.

So we can learn from mistakes we make and keep growing into a more mature, knowledgeable and informed person.

Basically, time is not slowing down or pausing for anyone and the need to live in the moment and make each second count, is greater than ever.

Cringe and vomit, I know.

But it’s kinda true.

Maybe I’ll just speak for myself instead of the rest of us here, but going forward from this moment, I am going to make far more of an effort to be in the present and focus on making that work, before making my unknown future the first priority. Because that may never come.

OK, I need to wrap this fella up. I’m getting far too morbid for a sunny Sunday morning in Autumn.

Live now and live honestly.

K, bye.



It’s not been a great summer, and my normal enthusiasm for Autumn is non-existent.

I’m currently sat on my bed, recovering from a 3 day migraine, which I thought yesterday I was going to die from, feeling very bitter and resentful that my cat is having a shit-ton more fun than me, curled up on a letter from my bank, fast asleep.

I’ve been pretty absent in the blogging scene so far this year and even though no one appears to read my blog, I thought I would document why I have been so MIA, just in case someone drops by.

The start of the year saw me immerse myself fully into a motorhome obsession, which laid me to then buying one. I spent quite a lot of time renovating it and painting bits here and there and actually living in it for a few months. A genuine interest which soon turned to complete disaster and has now resulted in me putting it up for sale. I had planned on blogging the whole journey, but something always stopped me. I realise now it was probably the lack of trust that it was the right thing to do.

I have explained in previous posts the reason behind the motorhome; it wasn’t a purchase-on-a-limb.. It was a well thought out project to enable me to have my own space and live independently but still be close to home. Where I’m needed.

Anyway, complete write off. Moving on…

Spring. My mother’s health starts declining again and she is diagnosed with Osteoperosis. This is an ongoing problem and causes a lot of stress and worry on my part. Something I have experienced my whole life. I cannot remember a time when I have not been worried about her health, and I just pray (in my own little way) that it doesn’t get any worse than this.

Alongside said stress and worry, came the difficulties at work and in my friendship circle. Everything felt so turbulent and for a very long time, I felt as though I didn’t have anyone to turn to. To talk.

And not be judged.

Because that’s something I’ve felt up against so much this year.

Being judged and misunderstood by those I previously thought had my back, in times which have been extremely dark for me.

Spring also saw me go to the doctor and explain said dark feelings and after admitting just how tough everything seemed, she prescribed anti-depressants and told me to self-refer for talking therapy again.

Well, the anti-depressants were a complete and utter shit storm of near death experiences and the realisation that because of my M.E. my intolerance and sensitivity to medication was all too strong to continue.

And as for the talking therapy (which is so what I need), the only day they don’t work is the only day I don’t either.

So I’m back to square one, considering private £50 a session counselling which I can’t afford and wondering what the point is anymore in seeking help.

Off you go with a prescription and a leaflet but there doesn’t seem to be anything beyond that.

If the talking therapy lot don’t work 5 days a week, you’re stuffed.

If prescription meds are too strong, you’re stuffed.

For now its chocolate cake and Bach’s Rescue Remedy. (Not sponsored)

Moving on to end of Summer, beginning of Autumn.

My grandfather has a bout of shingles and is admitted to hospital for 2 months.

At 90 years old, he’s always been a resilient man, but watching his health decline has been a horrible thing.

His mobility, which was not great before the shingles, has worsened and now he is back home with my Granny, things are more stressful than ever.

I just wish I could do more to care for them on a daily basis. And care for my mother too.

If that could become my full time job I’d do it.

Then there is my own physical health.

My M.E. has been worse than ever this year and I guess that’s because of the stress I’ve been under. I find I feel worse when I’m very worried.

Holding down a 36 hour a week job is also getting the better of me.

I’m having more sick days than I would like and although I have an understanding team who can see when I’m struggling, it does make me wonder for how much longer I can really keep it up.

And that freaks me out so much.

I recently flew out to Norway to stay with my very lovely friends again. I was so ill leading up to going and the day before I was bed ridden with a temperature, but something in me rose above it and convinced my poorly state to get a grip and go.

Honestly? It was difficult to go while everyone was so unwell and things seemed so unsettled with the family, but I knew I needed a break from it. Something I very rarely give in to.

The pressure and worry had been eating away at my already prominent depression and to get away would be the calm in among the tornado that I needed to gather stock and come back refreshed and more able to cope.

And while I would have loved blogging to be my saviour through all this chaos of mind and body, I couldn’t bring myself to write. And as an aspiring Journalist, this has worried senseless too.

I think seeing all the glossy blogs out there with their successes and brand triumphs, I feared writing from the heart. Because I don’t know if that’s what people want from a blog anymore.

The raw, unfiltered, un-edited version of someone’s heart.

Their soul.

But here I am. With my heart and my soul.

Risking it.

I am going to blog more, but it will be more this style. Rather than advice and reviews and beauty hauls I can’t afford.

The style I’ve always seen blogging as.

From the heart.


And honest.



Happy old Amy is back with another happy update…

But what truly defines happy anyway?

So I've blogged three times this year and to the normal human being ( but what truly defines normal), it would be a clear indication that my commitment to blogging has faded and the only way forward now would be to sever all links to the internet, delete everything and go back from whence I came.

However, it's not quite like that for me. I still love having a blog, and I love writing for it and I love knowing people have read my posts. But, these days, thanks to my ever worsening condition, I genuinely have very little energy left after a 9 hour shift and 36 hour week to do anything other than eat dinner and fall asleep.

Let me give you a little context…

As you can read on the "about me" page, I suffer from a chronic illness called M.E.
I have done since I was seven years old and have gone through stages of my 19 year battle with it experiencing different levels of symptoms and numerous 'flare ups'.

(I am planning on writing a blog post dedicated to living with M.E., so I won't go into it too heavily now.)

At the moment, and for the past few months, I am finding it increasingly more difficult to get through each day, and doing anything other than my shifts at work, is near to impossible.

Including putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, engaging my brain to create.
And that makes me very sad.

I want my career to be in writing. I desperately want my blog to grow and have wonderful content. I very much would like to continue my Journalism course I have started but have no energy to pick back up.

My heart and soul is in writing; my body says no.
And if writing is too difficult, what else is there? If writing is too difficult, how the hell am I still on my feet all day every day rushing around?

All of my energy (literally all), is being put in to work and keeping my job. But I know, I can feel, this cannot go on for much longer. I am running out of energy, and most of all, strength.

My limbs are now so weak, I wake up feeling like I have trekked the Amazon jungle. A heavy dull ache consuming my legs and my head feeling like it's been stuffed with cotton wool.
And the struggle is all too real to force myself out of bed and go to work.
It's not where I should be and the time for complete burn out is lingering in the not so distant future.

And that's a worry. A big worry.

So blogging has taken a back seat and I've missed it terribly. And I'm not going to make any promises to blog daily or weekly or even monthly. I will blog when I have the strength and energy, and that may be tonight or tomorrow and then again in a few weeks; who knows?

But I do miss it, and if there was any way I could dedicate more time to it, I would.

All that remains this morning (it's 6.50am) is to finish my coffee & croissant and get ready for work. No im not feeling fit enough and no im not looking forward to it, but it is what it is.

From the epitome of happiness itself,

Amy x



1. What’s your favorite candle scent? Summer Rain and Forrest Berries 
2. What female celebrity do you wish was your sister? Gemma Arterton
3. What male celebrity do you wish was your brother? Joe Thatcher
4. How old do you think you’ll be when you get married? 30>
5. Do you know a hoarder? Me
6. Can you do a split? Hell no
7. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? 3
8. How many oceans have you swam in? 1
9. How many countries have you been to? 6
10. Is anyone in your family in the army? No
11. What would you name your daughter if you had one? Florence
12. What would you name your son if you had one? Noah
13. What’s the worst grade you got on a test? D
14. What was your favorite TV show when you were a child? Th Worst Witch 
15. What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight? A Witch 
16. Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series? Harry Potter                                                  17. Would you rather have an American accent or a British accent? British
18. Did your mother go to college? Yes
19. Are your grandparents still married? Yes
20. Have you ever taken karate lessons? No but planning to 
21. Do you know who Kermit the frog is? Who doesn’t?
22. What’s the first amusement park you’ve been to? None. Avoid them like the plague!
23. What language, besides your native language, would you like to be fluent in? Russian
24. Do you spell the color as grey or gray? Grey
25. Is your father bald? Almost
26. Do you know triplets? No No No
27. Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook? Titanic
28. Have you ever had Indian food? Yes
29. What’s the name of your favorite restaurant? Giraffe
30. Have you ever been to Olive Garden? Where?
31. Do you belong to any warehouse stores (Costco, BJ’s, etc.)? Nope
32. What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender? Peter
33. If you have a nickname, what is it? Miss Frilly Socks
34. Who’s your favorite person in the world? My Mum 
35. Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs? Suburbs if I had to choose, but mostly the city
36. Can you whistle? For about 5 seconds.
37. Do you sleep with a nightlight? Fairy lights… Completely different.
38. Do you eat breakfast every morning? No
39. Do you take any pills or medication daily? Yes
40. What medical conditions do you have? Myalgic Encephalopathy
41. How many times have you been to the hospital? Loads, a bit for me but mostly others
42. Have you ever seen Finding Nemo? Yes
43. Where do you buy your jeans? From whoever does my fit… I’m very fussy
44. What’s the last compliment you got? You’re not as mad as you look
45. Do you usually remember your dreams in the morning? Yes 🙁
46. What flavor tea do you enjoy? Twinings English Breakfast and most fruit teas
47. How many pairs of shoes do you currently own? 7
48. What religion will you raise your children to practice? Kid’s aren’t part of the plan but hypothetically, spiritually
49. How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real? About 4. It was a harsh life                                            50. Hair colour? Currently Auburn

The Secret Life Of A Morbidly Obese Lunatic

This is my 5th attempt at typing this post. (Insert facepalm emoji here)

It was meant to happen Wednesday evening after the day from hell, then at numerous times throughout the week, but many things have stopped me from finishing the whole thing; from re reading it thinking it sounds to wingey, to feeling too tired to complete it to feeling way too ill. So, now I have about 4 drafts of this waiting for me to get my act together. My first draft (on Wednesday), contained far too many swear words for my liking and I wasn’t sure how that would go down with any readers I had, so hopefully, now I’m in a calmer state, I’ll only drop a couple of naughty words here and there:)

The week that has just gone by has been so incredibly stressful with illness (mine and my parents), having to literally take charge of everything while my dad couldn’t leave the house, get through a week at work and my trip to Devon last weekend. It’s been a crazy week and now I’m suffering with the ME. I really resent that after a week of basically doing my duties as a daughter and looking after my parents and running errands and doing chores, that I fall ill myself and am confined to bed with sickness and dizziness and extreme tiredness. Pathetic. I hope it doesn’t make people think I can’t handle things, because I can, deep down, it’s jut my stupid ME that overrides all of that.

In other joyful news, I am officially awful at blogging. It’s ages since I last posted anything and I’ve half considered packing the whole thing in, but then I remember how much I’ve spent on getting it right and suddenly the want to continue returns. Plus I have realized in the past few weeks just what I could do with my blog if I really make an effort to focus on it. But to be perfectly honest, by the time I get to sit down in front of my laptop in peace and quiet, I’m so exhausted I can’t bring myself to type or think! I’m unsure how I’m going to get round this but I am determined as there is much more to come in the story of What Amy Did Next and I really want to share that with readers.

A lot has been happening in the world of Amy lately, and there’s one massive piece of news I have which I’ll be sharing in a blog post very soon! My diary is and has been pretty full I’m pleased to say, but there’s always that part of me which feels guilty for leaving my family to go off and do things. They don’t mind at all, but they do rely on me somewhat so it’s always a bit daunting telling them I’m not going to be there for a weekend. I spent last weekend in Devon to see my friends and celebrate a late birthday with one of them. It was a fun weekend and I managed to do new things which had previously been way out of my comfort zone. But I survived and have come out the other side having learnt things so I see this as a positive.

I have a work meeting coming up next week in a place I’ve never been before and I have to get up at stupid o’clock to leave the house by 6 am to get a train by 7 am. It’s also on the day my mum goes for a dental operation so I’m now feeling guilty about that and will be having numerous amounts of kittens while I’m so far away. The operation was originally booked for the day after the meeting but they’ve changed it last-minute. Poo bags to that!

At the end of the month I have a spa weekend with my best friend from Devon, which is a seriously new experience for me and one I am slightly dreading. Not only does it mean exposing an awful lot of my body I’m really unhappy with at the moment, it also means letting strangers give me a massage and a facial (?) while my friend holds me down and ensures I don’t kick and scream my way through it. I’m hoping I’ll enjoy it and not be all self-conscious and prudish, but there is that streak in me. I’ll probably appear on the 6 o’clock news with the headline: “Hysterical Lunatic Sectioned After Kicking Masseuse In Shins In What Staff Are Calling Their Worst Client To Date”.

I’m also on a diet. God help my poor starving, confused, depressed soul. Enough is quite enough now and having reached the ghastly point last week when upon showing my mother the swimming costume I’ve bought for the spa things, she goes “My god Amy, that could fit the bloody gas works”, I have decided that I am sufficiently over the bastard break up to finally stop stuffing my face with anything edible with the excuse of, I sodding well deserve it OK?

Now I’m a very good two stone heavier than I was after said break up and about two dress sizes up, I figure now’s the time I stop with the comfort eating and get my arse in shape before I end up on one of those ridiculous reality tv shows for the obese and useless. God, I’ll probs feature on the next tear jerking series of “Too Fat To Leave The House” where steaming hot firefighters are craning me out of my room through the roof while I’m there, donut in one hand, takeaway menu in the other… Plus, I need to get immensely fit for this big thing that’s happening in July which I’ll tell you about in a post coming very soon! So, not only does this whole healthy diet thing benefit my health, but it means my roof won’t need to be ripped off a few years down the line.

Yay me!


My Coffee Shop Blues


Coffee shops eh? What makes them such a good a place to brood and be mysterious in and act like a Sin City down and out detective with the world on your shoulders, while a deep voiced man narrates your confused life?

Sitting there with your collar up, dark glasses on, hunched over the table with a stance that just screams “My life is a mess, I’m in real deep and I don’t know where I’m going”, in a Bronx accent and a cigarette balanced in your mouth.

Fortunately, my two recent trips to my local cafe haven’t seen me look that bleak, but I think deep down, what drove me there wasn’t too dissimilar from my alter Bronx detective ego.

I think this Bronx detective has life a bit easier though. At least you can hide in the city. In a village, you are known by everyone and those people see your every expression, hear your every thought and watch your every move. There is no hiding. There is no rocking up at a cafe in a long trench coat with dark glasses and a journal, ordering a black Americano “hold the milk”, without someone thinking “what an absolute prat”.

My life is the complete opposite of Sin City;  More Do-gooder Village where happy folk skip their way through a gleeful underworld in search of blossomed snow drops and fellow do-gooder approval. I’m not saying I want to live in a world full of violence and drugs and all that horrible stuff, not at all, I’m very grateful for where I live. But there is a part of me, the Bronx detective in me, which needs a slice of anonymity from time to time. Where I can order an Espresso and to not have “I’ll bring the Expresso over” smiled back at me; where they’ll know what one is. Where I can sit on a table for one in the corner, conveniently hidden from the rest of the cafe world by a strategically placed stone pillar, spot an equally mysterious Bruce Willis across from me who gives me a shady nod, and scroll through my phone without the disapproving look of an elderly country bumpkin and where I can write blog posts in my writing pad without someone thinking I’m studying or writing the next verse for the Parish magazine next week.

I want to be able to leave in silence, away into the hustle of a busy street where I immediately blend in with the existence of city life with nothing but the sound of “Taxi!” and a swirl of mist from the extractor fan in my wake. Instead I leave to the sound of synchronized “Bye”‘s from every soul in that cafe, all watching as I open the door, trip on the step and re-adjust my scarf as an overwhelming feeling of metaphorical suffocation encapsulates my being.

It can get too much.

You know?

I want to be a chic city girl exuding mystery and dark elegance.

Is that really too much to ask?


Midnight Blues|Two

Sitting up in bed surrounded by Hobnob flapjacks, tea and candles at half two in the morning was, lets face it, not what I was expecting.

I woke from yet another bad dream about an hour ago and have since given my two pennies worth on Twitter about the poor beached whales in Skegness, made a cup of tea, eaten my way through a pack of hobnob flap jacks and decided that sleep is no longer the way forward and I will not be doing any of that tonight.

I have the beginnings of a cold which I’m trying to sniff back into non existence, my mind is whirring over thoughts of yesterday’s stresses at work, my impending chat with one of my managers about a job prospect, my hideous and unwelcome dreams which are invading my mind, my nights and my sanity and the trillion other things I worry about on a daily basis. And it’s at this point I read that back and think, Amy, take some of your own advice and realise that worrying does not change the outcome of anything and will only serve to make thing you’re worrying over, more intimidating.

But that’s not so easy when it’s personal. We’re all crap at taking our own advice. For example, I am the Healthy Living Champion at work, yet the most unhealthy myself. I promote good health, healthy eating and happy living. I eat badly, don’t exercise and am in a perpetual state of worry and miserableness. I’m a walking contradiction. Fortunately, I’m on my feet all day at work and love salads and vegetables, it’s just the times between work and a lettuce leaf when it all goes a bit tits up.

Anyway, I can assure you it’s not my impending morbid obesity that’s keeping me awake. It’s quite simply these effing dreams I have night after night, taunting me until I wake up then staying with me throughout the day making me feel pretty damn awful.

These dreams all relate to one thing. The breakup. 8 months on & still feeling tormented by the whole thing. And the relentlessly annoying thing about it, is that when I’m not dreaming, I’m fine. Yeah I think about it, but I’m not tormented by it in my waking hours. I can think about it, then happily move on to something else. But in my head, at night, in my dreams, some irritating little shit of a mind cretin goes “I know, lets make her feel even worse about it all by getting her to see all the people who hurt her and get them to say nasty things about her and make her relive every bit of badness she’s spent 8 months overcoming all by herself”. Because even though he went to so much effort to make me feel completely guilty and responsible for it not working out, there is no escaping the fact that certain factors (and by that I mean certain people) made it not only a living hell, but an impossibility for it to work out. And so they’re in my dreams most nights, making me know just how unwanted I was. And despite going through all of that hurt and heartache 10 fold already, eight months on, it still finds a way to hurt, unfortunately.

And while everyone sleeps peacefully, here I am. Tormented at two in the morning.

It’s the darkest hour of the darkest night
It’s a million miles to the morning light
Can’t get no sleep, don’t know what to do



Ship To Wreck


Today has seen a run of unfortunate events occurring every hour, on the hour.

It started off in full swing this morning when no more than 2 minutes in the door at work, I decide that it would be nice if I dabbed a subtle hint of perfume either side of my neck, to smell fresh and fruity all day. I’m currently using the new Beyonce Heat tester tube (which as you may know, has a lid you have to remove by carefully prizing it away from the tube), and it’s very tiny and pretty fiddly. And instead of adorning my already fragranced skin with a miniature dab of said perfume, I end up quite spectacularly pinging the small tube out of my cold fingers and slowly watch on in horror as the entire contents of the tube squirts everywhere onto me, onto the floor and more embarrassingly, onto my manager’s handbag! *facepalm*

Now standing there unsure whether I smell more like I belong in a brothel or the fragrance section of Debenhams, the question of “can I actually hide this from the others and pretend it didn’t happen”? floats around my naive little mind before succumbing to the disastrous realisation that for at least the next week, my manager is going to smell just like me. And while it’s not the worst smell in the world, it is extremely awkward and cringe worthy. She took it very well though, and we managed to laugh it off, despite us all spending the rest of the morning with headaches and the door wide open for ventilation and basic life support…

In between the morning’s antics and my soon to be incredibly stressful lunch, I managed to bang my elbow, spill coffee down me and scare my colleague out of her wits when I almost ended up kissing her head after we bumped into each other. All of this was followed by lunch, which I had to purchase from the well known named shop next door. As I preyed the shelves searching for healthy but filling foods to drown my many sorrows in, I spot the strawberry Muller yogurt with my name on it. Juggling vegetable rice and a bottle of water on one hand, I used the other to retrieve the yogurt pot from the refrigerator, when SPLAT!!!

Yogurt engulfed my entire hand and arm and as I refrained from blaspheming my way into village banishment, I shuffled to the nearest supervisor and asked for assistance. And upon locating nearest supervisor, many a laugh was stifled and they kind of just stared at me for quite a long time, glazed and bemused at the yogurt covered, flustered mess that stood before them. With a half hearted attempt to take the oozing yogurt pot from me, he plonked down a roll of tissue on to the counter and as I shuffled once again, drowning in yogurt and feeling my stress levels rising, I proceeded to fight with this roll of tissue, and between myself and the very un-bothered sales guy, we tore off the most pointless and flimsy piece of paper that would make Bounty fall to the ground in horror. That said, not even a whole roll of Bounty Kitchen paper could sustain the moppage of the yogurt now spilling everywhere!

After a few further stressful minutes paying for my rice at the till, I leave before anything more can go wrong and leg it to the other well known named shop next door and by this point have thought “sodding stuff trying to be healthy, somebody find me a 5,000 calorie cake”, I proceed to buy a snack slice carrot cake (clearly the creator of that had never heard of a sweet tooth) and scurried back to the presumed safety of work.

Now, what followed after lunch is something I feel I need lifetime counselling for and is something I can’t really explain fully for confidentiality reasons; but all I will say is that it involved unexpected first aid, the touching of a strangers toes, the wobbling of a toenail and getting covered in Savlon! It is safe to say that event finished me off and when I just thought I was out of the danger zone and that surely nothing more traumatic could happen in the same day, I hear a middle aged woman’s personal account of using a new electric toothbrush and all the other things she’d rather use it for that actually brushing her teeth. Standing in shock, smelling like an adult version of Dolly Mixture comprising of perfume, coffee, yogurt and Savlon, I stuffed as many chocolates into my mouth as my disgusted body would allow and reminded myself that surely life would be dull without this sort of stuff and that I should count myself lucky for such excitement… Surely?

And that was just today! …


OK, I have other life stuff to catch up on; but there’s not going to be one word of Christmas past this point as I’m not looking forward to it at the moment for a lot of reasons. 

It was the weekend just gone that I traveled down to North Devon on the train to see friends. It was a great weekend, with shopping, shows and amazing food. I think I’m getting the hang of this solo travel thing. It’s not something I’ve ever been used to but this year, I’ve really had to master it and I’ve enjoyed the challenge. I’m not sure I’ll ever be a relaxed traveler as it’s just in my make up to panic about everything, but as long as I can rationalize and just go for it, I’ll be just fine. Like I said in this blog post, I might go somewhere in the new year, by myself, for a few days and just live. I don’t feel like I’m doing much of that right now and I want to. Change begins at the end of your comfort zone, or so they say!

Something needs to change either way… I’m fleeting between feelings of joy at the possibilities and freedom ahead of me, and the feeling of being trapped in the rut I am in and the negative ways of my mind. I swear I think myself into not being able to do all the things I dream of. I need it to be real, be true, even just for a minute; so I can see it’s possible. But that can’t happen, so I have to believe it’s possible. And that’s the scariest part o it all… Having the belief that one of my dreams might come true, after so many of them have gone so horribly wrong.

Somewhere, out there, is a star that shines for me. And one day, I’ll notice how bright it’s shining and I’ll follow it, and there, all of a sudden, will be my dream waiting for me to grasp it with both hands, build something amazing from it and never let go. And until then, I will keep looking for that shining star and let the prospect of it keep me from loosing all faith.


Much apologies for ending this rather deeply and in a philosophical state of melancholy. Thanks for reading if you’re still there:)




Glitter & Gold

Weight: I’ve given up checking (and to demonstrate my point, I’m scoffing my 6th mini spring roll which will be unforgivably followed by a Magnum Ice Cream).

Feeling: Surprisingly upbeat.

Song Of The Day: When Doves Cry – Because that’s the song Jay and Aliona danced the Tango to on Strictly and well, serious crush on Jay. I’m not even going to lie.

So, where do I begin? I usually have about a million and one things to moan about, feel sad about and sorry for myself over…

However, for one blog post only, I’m pleased to announce that I’m actually happy and things are pretty dayamn good.

  1.  I won an award at work! Oh yeah, little ol’ me from the village no one’s heard of got nominated for Unsung Hero, and won:)


That’s me on stage in front of 1,100 people at this years annual work conference in London. I work for a pharmacy I feel very proud to be part of right now, and to be awarded with this, is just the most shocking and incredible thing ever. I have never won an award (a proper one) before and had no idea I was even nominated! I was sat there, happy as larry, clapping all the other winners of other awards and low and very much behold, my name is called in the Unsung Hero nominee category. If that wasn’t a shock enough, I watched the big screen with a live feed from the stage, mouth open and heart about to stop. When all of a very much sudden, my name is called as the winner, and the place literally erupts into applaud and disorientating screeches from my colleagues enveloped my very confused head. In complete and genuine shock, I tried with as much finesse as my trembling legs would allow me, to make my way to the stage. The whole experience was an absolute blur and I am just praying I didn’t mouth to the Head of Pharmacy (who greeted me on stage) “Oh my bloody God are you sure it’s me?”, like I’m panicking I did!

Thank absolute God I didn’t go fancy dress for the 70’s theme!

Equally thank god I didn’t wear the hideous jumper dress I had debated on wearing because it would not be so breasty and would conceal my post curry bloat, however, I stuck with my first choice of the wine coloured number. Concerned it was too low, everyone kept telling me, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it”. Where I found this mildly reassuring, it didn’t stop me panicking that I was thrusting the bust a bit too much round the dinner table…

Anywho, I shook the hands of the three lovely people who met me on stage, I stood where I was supposed to and I smiled at the right time, and get this, I even didn’t blink as the photo was taken (a favourite unintentional habit of mine). As I shakily made my way off the stage (after going round in circles having become a bit lost) and made my way through the cheers and claps of the other attendees, I plonked myself down in my seat, mouth wide open and shaking my head in disbelief at my colleagues. It’s safe to say I proceeded to down the rest of my 2nd wine followed by another. I then became a little bit emotional as the reality kicked in and I remember just sitting there for ages, staring at my chocolate tart which had been served mid trance. I hadn’t even noticed the arrival of this tasty looking morsel and when I came to eat it, I could barely ingest it. It was like Christmas morning as a kid, the excitement too immense to eat the toast your mum placed in front of you… So I politely nibbled away at the chocolate bits as I sat in my own little world of 70’s music, the shiny glass award staring back at me and the echo of the applause still ringing in my ears. Nothing like that ever happens to me & I am pretty sure that even one week on, it’s still registering. I feel very humble and grateful to work for such a wonderful company.


Ok, so that’s the huge news. Other great stuff that’s happening soon is my weekend visiting friends in Devon next week, Christmas, planning my trips in the new year, the blog posts I have coming up and whilst it terrifies the living daylights out of me, sitting down and deciding how I want 2016 to go, and in the process, probably making some pretty tough decisions.

I can’t wait to start 2016 fresh, recovered and enthusiastic to make the most of my life. I’m foreseeing next year to be the year dreams come true and my new found freedom is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Oh yeah, right now I see moving out, plenty of adventures and joining dance classes as my top priorities for next year. It’s time to get out there and live. Not stay in the same place dreaming of living. Who ever achieves stuff by doing that? No one people.

I want to show everyone I am the go getting, self sufficient high achiever that I am deep down. That I don’t need to be held up or pulled along in life, dancing in the shadows of someone else’s glory. I will dance in the light of my own happiness and my shadows will only serve to share that happiness.


Anyone vommed yet??

Basically, I’m ready to fly into 2016, arms open embracing the dream! Someone please slap me round the face if I’m still dithering in April, like a confused wasp in Winter.

Ok, I’m gonna wrap this little fella up and bid my beautiful readers farewell. I have a chilli to cook, blog posts to write and dreams to dream.

I promise future posts won’t be as sickly as clearly this one has been.