Happiness in Photographs...with Filters: 100 Days of Happy.

I'm sure everyone is familiar with the 100 Days of Happy Instagram challenge. Well, I decided to give it a go and, despite the fact that mine lasted more like 150 days due to my overwhelming forgetfulness and inability to count, I'm finally done. So, in celebration of my commitment to technology (you all know how much I hate it) and because nothing particularly exciting has been happening recently for me to write about (apart from that super exciting thing I can't share with you yet) I thought I'd do a recap of my 100 days of happiness. Some are fun, some are weird, some are tenuous, but here we go.


Day 1

Day 1: (even though I failed at 30 days of happy) New shoes. Because sometimes you need to feel like Barbie #100daysofhappy #shoes #pink

It all started with my pretty pink shoes. I saw them in Miss Selfridge and simply had to own them. I don't think I've actually worn them yet though...


Day 2

Day 2: My beloved Britney may be off the the scrap yard, but today I got an early graduation present #100daysofhappy

This weekend I surprised my parents by taking a train back home from Exeter and turning up on their doorstep. They, in turn, surprised me with the news that my beloved KA, Britney, was being scrapped because the mechanic couldn't even complete the MOT. Something about some part of the engine falling out...

Anyway, on Day 2 I picked up my new car, Tink. She's lime green. We go on epic adventures.

Day 12

Day 12: Hurray! Winning the lottery was a little bonus for this week #100daysofhappy

This was such a great day! My parents were away in Prague and, being the wonderful daughter I am, I cleared out all the kitchen draws. I found about a dozen old lottery tickets and, what do you know, three of them were winners! Naturally I kept the winnings as payment for cleaning the draws.


Day 23

Day 23: Free pizza! I got to sample the new Pizza Express menu today to write up a review. I am so full it hurts #100daysofhappy

This was the day Hayleigh and I went and stuffed our faces with free pizza so I could write up a review for Pizza Express. Yes, I'm more than happy to work in exchange for food.


Day 27

Day 27: And breathe! My mother won't allow celebratory champagne with lunch but it's a celebration nonetheless

After all the tears, the late nights, nightmares about Miss America and after spending so much time reading Gone with the Wind that I began to believe the Yankees really were coming, on Day 27 I finally handed in my dissertation. The title? From Hoop Skirts to Daisy Dukes: The Changing....umm...something about the Southern Belle. Clearly I've repressed all memories of it. 


Day 53

Day 53: "Nanna, auntie Aimee wants a whisky." How well trained these children are! #100daysofhappy #worldsbestaunt #alcohol #jackdaniels

As much as every day with my little munchkins is a happy day, it's quotes like this that make me realise how blessed I am to have such a cool niece and nephew. 


Day 65

Day 65: I may look anything but happy in this picture, but that's only because I was hungry. It's day 3 of the #clean9 and I've lost 9lbs already and feel great! That's something to smile over. (But I could do with a stack of pancakes right now) #100daysofhappy #weightloss

Yes I craved pancakes for the entire week and yes I was grumpy when everyone else was chomping on burgers and I had to sit there sipping on water, but I really did lose 9lbs in 9 days! That made me very happy.


Day 73

Day 73: I can't believe it, but the most amazing three year adventure has come to an end all too quickly and today I graduated. It was a fantastic day in spite of the ridiculous hat #100daysofhappy #graduation #hooray

Day 73 was my graduation day. I drank champagne, threw a stupid hat into the air, and hugged Floella Benjamin! And, on top of all that, my hair remained pretty much under control for the most part. Success! 


Day 97

Day 97: World's coolest birthday present. Entrepreneur Barbie! She will sit on my desk to inspire me each morning. Yes, I'm 23. #100daysofhappy #barbie #grownup

A+ to one of my closest friends, Thorny, for paying attention to my ramblings about the release of Entrepreneur Barbie and getting me one for my birthday. I LOVE her! Don't tell me Barbie is a bad role model to girls. No other woman has been a doctor, astronaut, vet, politician, teacher, and entrepreneur, all whilst rocking killer shoes.


Day 100

Day 100 (finally!): At long last I have my official results from university. I have graduated with a 2:1 with honours! Better late than never #100daysofhappy

I wasn't exactly thrilled when I got a kidney infection back in January and had to miss my exam. It meant I had to defer it until August and haul my butt all the way back to Exeter to sit it during the summer after the lease on my house was up. Then I couldn't get my result the same time as everyone else, but at last, on Day 100, I could officially say I had a 2:1 from the University of Exeter. 


And so 100 days (or significantly more) have passed and I've had plenty to be happy about. True, I omitted some of the more mundane ones ("I'm happy about...my bed"), but I really liked this challenge. And it was nice to sit down and look through them all this evening. So if you haven't done it yet, maybe you could give it a go. 

And you should DEFINITELY follow me on Instagram. @aimee_oddball. 

The Job Hunt

Once upon a time I worked in a Call Centre. Customers swore at me and made me cry and I was gulping down Kalms as if they were Skittles on a daily basis. But I look back at that time in my life with a kind of wonder. Back then I had a monthly income. True, I also had no self-esteem and a great many nights where I woke up screaming about PPI, but I had money for YSL make up and Cosmopolitans and an endless amount of shoes. Three years later I have a BA, a great gaping hole in my bank balance and no job on the horizon.

I knew the job market wasn't great, but I didn't think a girl with my qualifications and infectious laugh (scrap that, it’s more of a cackle) would be finding it so difficult. I haven’t limited my options. I’ve applied for waitressing, admin, retail, secretarial…true I didn't apply for the grave-digging job my friend went for, but you have to draw the line somewhere. But, if nothing else, I've come away from my various failed interviews with experience…and something to write about.

The first interview I went to was for a sales position for a high end beauty brand. I sent off my CV, highlighting my sales experience and beauty channel on Youtube (I knew they’d want a girl who knew her way around an eyeshadow palette). A few weeks later, joy of joys, I was invited to an interview. At this point I genuinely thought it was in the bag so long as I could get my hair to lie flat on the day of the interview.

But when I rounded the corner of the department store on the day of my interview, I couldn't believe what I saw. Over a hundred girls were queueing up outside the door, all dressed in black. Either there’d been a tragedy in the shoe department or we had all showed up for the same interview. I joined the queue, prayed my feet would last in my new shoes, and looked around in despair at the hordes of girls. Faces all around with kohl eyes, red lips and hair that was lying flat. That day I queued for 2 hours and 15 minutes for my interview. Soon the queue was wrapped right the way around the side of the shop. On at least four occasions people approached me to ask if the shop was doing a giveaway.

But eventually it was my turn. It was worryingly similar to the kind of quizzes you get in magazines for teen girls. I kid you not when I say that at the end the interviewer added up a score to see if I’d passed or not. I did. I’d be called back for a follow up interview…some time between April and June. After wasting an entire morning and getting blisters on my feet, all I had was a vague promise that, some time in the future (no one knew when) I could come back to try and impress them all over again. My nine year old nephew runs his loom-band business better than that!

Then there was the job I attempted to apply for in the new coffee shop in town. The manager didn't look pleased when I turned up.

“I have got a job going, but, to be honest, I really need someone older who has experience and isn't going to just work here for six weeks and then quit. I don’t want people wasting my time. I’ve had enough people wasting my time.”

“Oh…well I know I look young,” (10:1 he thought I was in secondary school) “But I’m a lot older than I look and I…”

“Yeah, but I need someone who knows how to run the place. I've had people in here who can’t even turn the coffee machine on. If you haven’t got experience don’t even bother. I won’t even read the CV.”

“Actually, I've worked in a coffee shop before. I know how everything works and…”

“Yeah, but the thing is I've already hired and fired seven people. I just don’t want people wasting my time.”

“Ok…so do you have an application form or…?”

“No.”

I'm not entirely sure whether that counts as a failed interview or whether it’s just an indication of how strange some people in Port Talbot can be.

Then there are issues with my qualifications. Because, what they don’t tell you when you’re revising for your GCSEs is that it’s possible to look too smart in a CV.

“I know you got an A in Maths, but we do everything on the calculator here anyway so it won’t do you any favours.”

“I’ve seen your qualifications. But this job isn’t rocket science, you know.”

And so the job hunt continues and my treasured student life seems all the more fabulous by comparison. Instant noodles and mouldy bedrooms beat this job hunting malarkey any day. 

The South West Blog Social and Nails Barbie would Envy!

Last weekend I travelled back to Exeter for the South West blog social. Never has a train journey seemed so long. There I was, standing in the cramped space near the toilets with half a dozen of my fellow travellers when the train stopped to let yet more people on board. First on was a pregnant woman with her five young children, followed by a somewhat large and very stifled-looking woman with her somewhat large and very stifled-looking daughter and then, after five or so more people had squeezed into their respective little spaces, an older lady with an enormous backpack and a fully assembled crib got on. She insisted on dragging it past everyone to the luggage compartment, injuring a few of the pregnant lady's children as she did so.

There were no windows. Very soon it started to smell like stale sweat and it wasn't long before the pregnant lady wedged the toilet door open and sat down on the loo, with her five young children sprawled around her on what I'm guessing was not a clean floor. After an hour the somewhat large and very stifled-looking woman offered to spray something on my face to cool me down. I assumed it was water. It was not. It smelled like fruit juice and made my skin itch.

So, needless to say, by the time I got to Exeter all I could think was, 'this social had better be worth the three hours I just spent stood inhaling other people's perspiration'. Luckily, it was even better than I could have imagined! Ok, so prepare yourself for some serious, shameless name-dropping because I met so many lovely bloggers and you should go and check out their sites...after you read this, of course.

I'm not a shy person, but when I first turned up at Oddfellows (which, luckily for me, is a three minute walk from my house), I was a little overwhelmed. The room was already filling up with people and photographs were being taken from all angles. That's one of the hazards of a blogging event. Everyone has a camera.

"In amongst the piles of sensible-looking cards..."

I decided my priorities were first to get a drink in my hand and second to make some friends. I sat down at a table with Hannah from Cupcake Mumma and Issy from Life and Times of a Student and they were really sweet. Issy studies English too and Hannah has two children, which amazed me because she looked so amazing. That isn't to say that women with children usually look like swamp creatures or anything like that, but it was one of those, "What? You have children? But you're so young and radiant looking!" type scenarios. I feel that in fifty words or less I've just offended mothers everywhere, but trust me when I say I know what I mean and it's not a bad thing.

Moving swiftly on from that...

I tried one of the signature blog cocktails that were made especially for the event and they were delicious! The till downstairs was broken so I had to venture up a set of creaky wooden stairs to order my drink. As I walked into the upstairs bar the barman was taking a tray of cocktails downstairs.
"He'll make yours up when he comes back." The manager told me.
"Oh great." I said. "Will he bring it down...?"
"No, you'll have to wait."
"Ok, I was just wondering because I'm a little nervous about getting back down the stairs in these shoes."
Maybe he thought this was an attempt at a damsel in distress act rather than a genuine confession about my complete lack of co-ordination or balance, but he was a little patronising when he said, "I'm sure you can manage to walk down the stairs."
Unfortunately, though, he was wrong. At the top of the stairs my heel got caught in a gap in the floor boards, I lost balance and spilled half of my drink over myself and (the horror!) ruined the heel of one of my favourite shoes! People just don't understand the extent of my incompetence. The only plus point is that no one was there to witness my humiliation.

"Even Barbie would envy these nails"

There was so much going on downstairs! I had my nails done by Rachel from Monkey Nail Art. I love them! Even Barbie would envy these nails they're so pink and sparkly. She was so talented and so nice to chat to. Then I dropped off my new business cards at the business card exchange. In amongst the piles of sensible-looking cards, the pictures of me pulling
a ridiculous face really stood out...I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. We had really interesting talks about publishing, advertising and content. There really was a bit of everything going on and something for everyone. Oh, and I had a giant pizza to myself and felt no shame.

Then there was the raffle. Determined that for once in my life I would win at a raffle, I bought 6 strips of tickets. Ultimately it paid off because I won twice. I think the "Yesssss!" when my name was called was perhaps a little too enthusiastic, but I wasn't as loud as I was the time I won £10 in bingo so presumably my social etiquette is improving.

The day really slipped away from me and it seemed like no time at all before I was collecting my goody bag and thanking Albertine from Dippy Writes and Jodie from a la Jode for putting together such a wonderful event. And then I got home and stuffed my face with complimentary Quiz cookiesQuiz cookies and riffled through my freebies. What a fantastic day! I would quite happily stand squashed between a smelly woman and a crib for three hours to attend a day like that again!

And...
If you'd like to see what sort of goodies I got at the event then your curiosity can be satisfied by watching this video. Because I'm kind like that.

My Life is no Fairytale...Yet

I'm back in Exeter, patiently waiting for my housemates to finish their exams and doing my utmost not to run into their study area with a bottle of tequila and demand someone entertains me. Instead, I've spent my afternoon looking up a half-decent questions tag for my blog (note to whoever writes these, 'what do you order at Starbucks?' is not an interesting or enlightening question). Eventually I found the fairytale tag and, as I am on board with anything Disney-related, I've spent my time typing away at this and avoiding housework. After all, I'm not Cinderella. 

"I am on board with anything Disney-related"

Snow White - Do you consider yourself beautiful?

There are some variables to consider here. For instance, am I wearing make up? Did I just wake up? Am I sober? Sometimes I can look in the mirror and think, "Oh wow! I look great!" but I'm always treading the line between Beauty and the Beast and you never know which way it's going to go.

Sleeping Beauty - How many hours do you sleep at night?

Somewhere in the region of 10-12 hours a night, which is slightly excessive.

Cinderella - Do you have a curfew?

It would be rather ludicrous for my parents to officially implement a curfew now that I'm 22 years years old, have been living alone on and off for three years and have proven myself to be an upstanding member of society (most of the time). They always know exactly when I return home anyway because I've usually forgotten my keys and have to wake them up to let me in. I'm a joy to live with all round. 

Rapunzel - Do you love being outside?

"I'm always treading the line between
Beauty and the Beast"

I'm no hiker if that's where we're going with this. I have hayfever, I'm allergic to insect bites and camping is my idea of the ultimate torture. In a world where you can get a room in the Premier Inn for £20, why would you choose to sleep outside on the floor? But I'm more than happy to be outside if it's on a beach. A warm beach. A warm beach with men who bring me cocktails. 

Red Riding Hood - Do you trust strangers easily?

Unfortunately yes. There was the time Kirsty found me making friends with a large group of Iranian men who were giving away free champagne. Then there was the time Hayleigh and I agreed to follow a group of army officers in posh suits back to an after party in the Grand Hotel. (Free gin? Why not?) And who could forget the incident in Venice when I led my friends into a wine cellar because the waiter told me he owned it? And that he had a gondola. 

The Wolf and The Seven Young Kids - Are you easy to fool?

See the above story concerning the man with the gondola who, in hindsight, had so obviously illegally broken into that wine cellar. 

The Little Mermaid - What would you sacrifice for love?

I'm a true romantic. That said, I don't think I would ever willingly give up my voice the way The Little Mermaid did. I'm sure there are many people who wish I would, but it would take a seriously amazing man to convince me to shut up for more than five minutes. However, there's plenty I would give up. I'd move away, I'd spend all my money, I'd set aside my plans...I wouldn't give up my shoes, though. That's not negotiable. 

The Frog King - What do you find disgusting?

There are many things I find disgusting, but what instantly pops to mind (probably due to some recent escapades) is the decline of chivalry. Call me sexist (I'm sure you will), but there is nothing more disgusting to me than a man who pushes past a woman in a queue, allows a door to slam in her face, or dashes for the last seat on the train and lets a girl stand. If this is progress, hand me an apron and count me out.

Jack and the Beanstalk - What plants do you have?

None. I have an excessive amount of mould growing in my bedroom in Exeter if that counts?

Puss in Boots - Do you have pets? If not, do you want them?

I have no pets. I have no desire to get pets. And I do not appreciate pet owners trying to force me to love their pets. You may see it as some kind of small child with fur, but I wouldn't take kindly to your real children slobbering over me and I don't appreciate it from the dog either.

Pinocchio - What is your biggest wish?

I've got my fingers crossed for a miracle. My nephew has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, which is a progressive muscle-wasting disease. My biggest wish is for a cure. 
Yeah, I know, way to darken the mood.

Peter Pan - What is your mental age?

My mother calls me childish. I prefer to think of it as a youthful inner glow. After spending some time at home I realised just how much I have in common with my niece. We love the same films, I envy her amazing pink dresses, we discuss Barbie at length. So, from that, I would put my mental age at four. No. Four and a half.

"We discuss Barbie at length..."

The Star Money - What is your most valuable possession?

I have some fancy mod-cons, I have my cute little car, and, when my Nanna was alive, she used to buy me expensive earrings (which I am too terrified to wear). But I'm very sentimental. My most treasured possession would be something left behind by my grandparents, photos of me when I was tiny and adorable, or the weird gifts my niece and nephew get me.

The Princess and the Pea - Are you sensitive?

Yes. I especially react badly to being shouted at. My neighbour shouted at me a couple of weeks ago and I cried for four hours. That probably had more to do with the fact that my dissertation was due in a few days later and I hadn't slept in nights, but, either way, I am still slightly terrified of him.

Bluebeard - What is your weak point?
Chocolate cake. That counts, right?

So there are some random insights into my life based on beloved children's stories...and some stories that I've never heard of in my life. Now all I can think about is chocolate cake so I'm probably going to have to buy some. Seriously, I'll never be fairest of them all if I'm popping out of my jeans.

You Should All Totally Nominate Me!

If my humiliation has ever brought a smile to your face, if reading my posts has ever been a part of your procrastination, or if my ridiculous advice has ever aided you in life, then I now call on you to return to favour!

Nominations are open for the Cosmopolitan Blog Awards and I really need as many nominations as I can get so I have a chance of making it to the short list. You know you want to see me don a pair of killer heels and make a fool of myself at a major press covered event. My blog is under 12 months old so you can nominate me for best newcomer.

Here. Just follow this link...

Best Newcomer!

And then just enter my URL (www.twentyoddball.blogspot.co.uk), tell Cosmo you love me, and click enter. Less than two minutes.

I'm openly begging for nominations here! And probably will continue to do so until the deadline is up.

Can you honestly say no to this face?

There's No Place Like Home

It's been a while since I last wrote a post. I've been slowly sinking in a pool of despair and MLA referencing, but I'm officially half-way through my dissertation and the end is finally in sight. I'd planned out the entire month of April to ensure I had half a hope of retaining what was left of my sanity. The plan was to spend the first two weeks at my desk until I had at least a solid first draft, to go back home to Wales the next week and force everyone to proof read it, and then spend the last week sleeping soundly, minus the looming prospect of antebellum-themed nightmares.

I made it to the 3rd of April before I abandoned that plan entirely and booked a train ticket home.

I decided to be very sneaky about the whole thing and surprise my loving parents by turning up on their doorstep two weeks early. So, last Saturday, after five hours of public transport and a taxi ride, I burst through the front door, ready to spread joy.

"Surprise! Your favourite child is home!"

My father, who had been napping on the sofa, looked like he was caught somewhere between thrilled and terrified. My mother appeared at the top of the stairs a few seconds later and merely said,

"Shh! Your brother's sleeping."

Clearly the favourite child had been there all along and was currently sleeping off his night shift in my bed.

As much as I wanted to collapse on the sofa, enjoying the novelty of warmth and cleanliness (student houses are grim to say the least), it was my cousin's 18th birthday party that night. I had just enough time to stick some rollers in and don some fabulous shoes.

Family gatherings are always eventful, but they are downright dangerous when Dave the Laugh, my older cousin's boyfriend, is there. He lurks around the house, waiting for the opportune moment to swoop in and top up your drink, which sounds great, but, in reality, borders on deadly. On this particular night it led me to declare,

"I'm going to town!"

I do NOT look like the older cousin...

Yes, I was going to crash my little cousin's first night out. And in Station Road of all places. I have plenty of good memories of Station Road. But I was 16 then. And fishbowls were on sale.

Totally unprepared for a night out and two and a half bottles of wine worse off when I thought I'd only gone through one, I had to borrow a handbag. And a phone. And money. But off I went with my cousin and her friends, totally oblivious to the fact that I had somehow become the uncool, old person.

Thankfully, I wasn't the only uncool, old person in Station Road that night. Hayleigh was there with some of our friends. I wish I could describe the level of gleeful screeching that occurred when we spotted each other at the bar. I imagine it's the kind of noise you'd expect to hear if dolphins were reunited after 20 years apart. Dolphins on crack. And perhaps even more shrill than that.

It wasn't long before my cousin had ditched me (I swear, I used to be cool!) and Hayleigh and I ended up in a bizarre after-party in a nearby hotel. It wasn't so much a party as a random collection of people arguing over which drinking game to play while I insisted on slurring through stories about last year's adventures in Europe. All I know is, a Scottish man was wrapped in a blanket and there was an excessive amount of gin.

And, in a nutshell, that's the story of how, on my first night back in Wales, I turned up on my parents' doorstep at 4am and came to spend the entire following day curled up in a ball, cursing Dave the Laugh.


But, before I go back to my cave of despair and dissertation-writing, I'm going to do a little shameless self-promotion. I've set up a Youtube channel (yes, in spite of my technophobia) dedicated to me talking about beauty products, and generally making a fool of myself in front of the camera. So here's my latest video if you want to take a peek.

And, because I have such little faith in my ability to actually use the computer, I'll post the link to the channel...just in case.

Youtube Channel

"What goes with pyjama bottoms?" "Shame!"

Five minutes ago there was a knock on my bedroom door. I crawled to the door on my hands and knees (naturally). It was my housemate, Iona.
"I just read your blog from start to finish and I really like it. I think you should write another post soon."
I was both touched by her compliment and impressed by her procrastination skills.
"Thanks," (still on my knees) "I want to write one, but I've just been so boring lately doing my dissertation. I don't know what I'd write about."
When she left and I crawled back to my pilates (which was my own form of procrastination and the reason I was crawling around the room), I realised that, in fact, my weekend had been far from boring and now is the perfect opportunity to write my next blog post...and procrastinate by doing so.

What started out as dinner with Kirsty and her parents on Friday night ended with me walking home through puddles with no shoes on at 2am with Sophie and Jess. I have a knack for spreading the evening out.

It was Emma, from Wasting Tuition Fees', birthday. I only realised when I was on my way out the door to go to dinner, but I'm not one to pass up an opportunity for a cocktail or seven so, after stuffing my face with the world's best chicken in mushroom sauce, I headed over to Monkey Suit, which is one of my favourite places in Exeter because they know exactly how to make a strawberry daiquiri, a skill which is often overlooked in life.

I told Sophie and Jess I'd meet them there so I was alone when I got to the entrance.
"Are you just coming in for a drink?" Asked the bouncer.
"No...I'm going to a party."
"Whose party?"
"Emma's"
"And how old is Emma?"
I stopped and stared blankly, partly because this interrogation seemed somewhat unnecessary and partly because at that moment, I couldn't even remember how old I was.
"22. No. 21. 22. Wait. No. I'm 22. So she must be...I'm just so confused."
But my confusion was obviously believable because in I went.

By the time Sophie and Jess got there I was three cocktails better off and already had a wristband for queue jump at Timepiece, despite the fact that it was originally going to be a 'just one drink and then home so I can get up for the library tomorrow' affair. Fast-forward to us heading home in the early hours with me carrying my shoes, something that simply does not occur in my life. I once kept my shoes on all night despite the fact that my feet were bleeding and yet here I was splashing through the puddles, high heels in hand, like some kind of shoe-novice.

"I feel no shame."

But, as much fun as we had that night, it was the next day that inspired me to write this post. Having point blank refused to leave my bed all morning, I assumed the others had made it to the library. Imagine my surprise when Sophie popped up on Facebook chat.
"Have you got any self raising flour? I need cookies."
What a genius idea! Cookies were exactly what we needed. And so I made the most productive move of the day thus far and moved from my bed to Sophie's bed.

So Sophie, Jess and I sat on Sophie's bed, each at various levels of exhaustion and all still wearing our pjs and last night's eyeliner. It was a serious issue, trying to decide what treats we needed. We could make cookies, but we had no chocolate chips. We could make cake, but deep down we all wanted cookies. There was ice cream, but no brownies. The odds were seriously stacked up against us.

At last there was no alternative, but to head to Londis in our pjs, hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot, faces unmade. There was a bizarre moment before we left when Sophie couldn't decide which shoes to wear.
"We're in pyjamas. I don't even have a bra on. I don't think it matter which shoes you wear."
"It's just...what goes with pyjama bottoms?"
"...Shame."
We simply needed chocolate chips. And it was worth wandering the streets in my Mickey Mouse pyjama bottoms to stuff my face with cookies...and cookie dough....and ice cream...and Dorritos. Because sometimes, when you simply can't face another day of reading about the antebellum South, the only thing to do is to lie in bed and eat and week's worth of calories.

I feel no shame. It was amazing.

The Not So Fabulous Student Life

I've been back in Exter for less than a week and already student life has become the norm again. It's amazing how quickly you forget about the existence of ironed clothes, general warmth, and a kitchen floor that isn't so sticky it pulls the socks off your feet. And now that the winds outside are up to 100mph and something as simple as the walk to campus has become a nightmare in its own right, I've begun to realise just how un-glamorous student life can be.

1. Student Housing.
When I was in first year I lived in brand new student accommodation that, while luxurious compared with some of the rooms I've seen at the likes of Swansea and Cardiff, was in no way worth the £123 a week I paid to live there. But it was warm and comfortable. Yes, our cleaner used to spend her shift sat at our dining room table, eating our biscuits and insulting us if we walked in instead of actually doing any kind of cleaning, but that was as bad as it got.
When I left campus I entered the world of deposit-snatching landlords, 'house' snails, broadband scams, arguments about when it's acceptable to turn the heat up (apparently, in some cases, only when you can literally see your own breath) and various other student housing delights.
Last year my room had no window. It led onto a badly constructed extension that clearly wasn't up to any kind of building code. It let in the rain and there were weeds growing in it. There was no natural daylight in the room itself...or air.

This year our house is a great improvement. It's bigger, the housemate to bathroom ratio is fantastic, my room has two whole windows and space for my clothes in the cupboard. But we have damp. And, as this seemingly never-ending downpour continues, it's not getting any better. When I got back last week and opened my wardrobe, my shoes had grown a layer of mould. I had to scrape a living entity off my favourite red Mary Janes. The estate agent did not understand my despair.


2. A Ridiculous Life.
It would be a lie to say that ridiculous things only happen to me in Exeter. If you read about my trip to Europe last summer then you will be well aware that it makes no difference where in the world I am. I just attract stupid scenarios. But living at university offers up a whole new realm of possibilities for me to get myself into trouble.

The first time I ever went to the uni
library I was drunk...and wearing
hotpants.

On the weekend I popped across the road to the corner shop. It's conveniently placed right opposite our house, next to the Thai 'Massage Parlour' (which isn't fooling anyone, by the way). I left the door on the latch, only to find when I got back that I'd been locked out. Our doorbell was broken. I banged the door until I thought I might inadvertently punch right through it but, as is one of the fun novelties of student living, someone had music on and no one heard.
It was cold and wet. I had nothing to hand but my purse and a tin of chopped tomatoes. My very will to live was fast slipping from me at the point. I pushed past the shrubs to get around to the side of the house. The gate was locked.
So I scaled the pointed fence. It's a good two feet taller than me and my cowboy boots were of no use in trying to get a decent foothold. Halfway over, shivering, hair frizzy, butt in the air, a man walked up the lane next to the house.
"Just...trying to get back into my house."
He looked in no way surprised to see me crawling my way across a seven foot wall. Has living in such close proximity to students made Exeter residents immune to this kind of thing or do I just give off the vibe that this kind of thing is part of my day to day life?


3. Grunge, Grime, and Tiny Nervous Breakdowns.

In first year we brought a random
cat into our kitchen.

Student houses are disgusting because, generally speaking, students are disgusting. That's why landlords turn the other way when there are indoor snails, indoor weeds, and indoor mould (even when it's on my shoes). Forget dissertations and presentations, the biggest stress in a student's life is usually the kitchen and the fear of what kind of diseases may be lurking there.
Since I first lived in my comfy little flat, kitchens have been a nightmare. Back then it was the guy who would leave his saucepans unwashed for so long he had to throw them out. Now it's the nightmare of having six people share a teeny tiny kitchen...and leaving their stuff unwashed for so long that they maybe should consider throwing it out.
I've gotten into a great habit of washing, drying and putting away my dishes as soon as I'm done with them, mostly because I don't like the idea of them touching the surfaces. In fact, my parents were pleasantly surprised when I went home last week and did the dishes in an almost paranoid way. Yes, dirty kitchens are annoying, but I had no idea how much it irritated me until the other night when my subconscious decided to join the party...in a big way.
It was a normal, quiet evening. I was a normal, quiet human being. Kirsty and I were in the kitchen and I was just washing up a mug.
"The kitchen looks so much better, doesn't it?" Said Kirsty. "I've noticed it doesn't stress you out so much anymore."
"No," I said (still a normal, quiet human being). "I just let it all go over my head now. I try not to think about it too much. But," (still normal and quiet) "one thing that does annoy me is this whole draining board thing. We never have any dry tea towels and then, when we do, people use them to create a second draining board." (This is where normal and quiet started to ebb away). "I mean, we don't need two draining boards. We don't even technically need the one if people would just dry their dishes, but they seem to insist on using it as some kind of communal storage unit! And then, when this storage unit, which isn't even meant to be a storage unit, is full, they make another one instead of emptying the first?! And how do they do that? They use the only dry tea towel in the house so that even if anyone actually did want to dry their dishes, they couldn't! But clearly no one does anyway because otherwise we wouldn't need two draining boards for them to store all their crap on!! But maybe I DO want to dry my dishes and now I can't because of this stupid second draining board thing!"
Normal and quiet had well and truly left the building. Kirsty just stared at me.
"But, yeah...apart from that I think I've really chilled out about the whole kitchen thing..."
Kirsty quickly removed all of her kitchenware from the draining board.


So those are just a couple of examples from the last week I thought would highlight some of the more...challenging aspects of student living. As well as these there's the mountain of Dominoes boxes, the battle of who will take out the bins, library fines, attempting to navigate the amory building (you will not understand the horror until you've tried), student loans not covering the high price of alcohol in Exeter, Student Finance Wales in general, MLA citations, the way Arena smells like feet...oh good grief, I'm having another 'draining board moment'.

But, despite the grim realities of student life, we are some of the few people who can drink midweek without being judged, lay in bed until 2pm, leave the house in whatever happens to be clean and pretend we're being 'hipster' and generally enjoy all the perks of independent living without the drag of having a job. And, most importantly, at the end of term you always get to return to your parents house, where it's dry and clean and the wall is only 2 foot tall if you ever need to scale it.

A Beacon of Hope

For those of you who didn't keep up to date with my Euro adventures, a) Where have you been? and b) I'll fill you in on the essential information.

So this one time, in Europe, I was innocently crawling my way through the pubs of Prague. I'd successfully spilled my last koruna's worth of Jack Daniels all over my new skirt and the poor guy who happened to be sitting next to me.