Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining and Mine's Blogging.

As many of you may (or may not) know, I'm currently doing my Post Graduate Certificate in Education. In other words I'm training to be a teacher and doing masters level work side by side and therefore have no time, no life and basically spend my evenings planning lessons and crying into a tub of ice cream.

When people said the PGCE year would be the most stressful year of my life they were spot on!

Unfortunately, things recently took on a whole new stress factor when I was told by the placement school I'm currently training in that I needed to delete my Youtube channel. It was as if someone had asked me to give away my dog. Not that I have a dog. But, you know, I can imagine.

Last weekend I tearfully set three year's worth of videos to private. The positive is I can reactivate everything in 10 weeks time when I finish the course. The negative is I'm pretty sure they're going to be the longest ten weeks of my life! So far it's only been three days and I'm already having withdrawal symptoms. It's only a matter of time before I start narrating my makeup application in the morning when I'm alone in my room.

The good news is I can spend the next 10 weeks showering my blog with the love and attention it deserves. Ever since I graduated from university and entered the world of work, my poor little blog has taken a back seat. After all, after a hard day filled with rush hour traffic, mountainous workloads that will never be conquered and computer screen induced headaches, it's a lot easier to plonk down in front of a camera and ramble on incessantly than it is to try and put together a witty and coherent blog post. Most days, by the time 4pm hits I can rarely put together a logical sentence.

But suddenly I have a bunch of unexpected free time on my hands (you know, if you ignore the 8,000 word essay I have due) so it's the perfect opportunity to show my poor little neglected blog a little bit of love. You know what they say: every cloud has a silver lining!

So I'm going to get over the writer's block and get back into the swing of things. I'm a little rusty and a little short of jet-setting adventures to write about since I graduated, but I'm excited to catch the blogging bug all over again!

My New Year's Resolutions (with the best of intentions)

Last year my New Year's resolution was 'to be better'. I'm not sure that I ever truly understood what I really meant by that other than that I wanted to improve every aspect of my life in one fair swoop. I had a vague idea that it would include everything from getting up earlier to reading more, dabbling in the Welsh language to becoming some kind of vegetable-loving, meditating, eco-friendly woman of the world who also puts time and effort into getting her hair to lie flat and wears good shoes.

Clearly this was not a good resolution. It was way too vague and ridiculous. I couldn't keep up with all the different aspects of it, partially because they changed from one day to the next. This year I'm going to set myself a list of clear cut, attainable goals with the best of intentions (which, as we know, the road to Hell is paved with) and I'm sharing them with you guys so that I'll feel more obligated to actually get up and do them.

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. 

From Public Pools to the Royal Treatment

Everything suddenly came to a screeching halt. No new blog posts, no new Youtube videos, my nails are a disaster and I can barely remember what my friends look like. Over the past month all of my time has been sucked into some kind of vortex and I'm not entirely sure what I've even been doing other than looking for jobs and mourning the loss of my footless and fancy free student days.

Maybe I haven't adjusted to living with my parents again yet. I'm used to waking up to a plan I made the night before or a totally blank canvas ("What's the plan for the day? Four hours of Netflix followed by cocktails and the Sex and the City drinking game with my housemates? Why not?") Last week I woke up to the sound of Lauren scampering into my room.
"We're going swimming!"
I broached the subject with my mother. Admittedly, rather tactlessly.
"Swimming? Nobody consulted me. I could have had plans for all you knew."
"You don't though, do you?" She said, knowingly.

She was right. It was meant to be one of those blank canvas days. Maybe I'd have gone to pilates. Maybe I'd have gone to the pub. Maybe I'd even have finally gotten around to writing my new blog post. But my blank canvas day was snatched away and instead I was heading to the swimming pool with two small children. Still, my soul was, as of yet, uncrushed.

That quickly changed.

We drove all the way over the Swansea, only to find out the gym we're a member of wasn't open to children for another hour. Try explaining that to a four year old diva. So we ended up on the road again, heading towards the public pool in Neath, which, as it turns out (the lady on the phone failed to mention this little gem) is free for all school children after 2pm. Wonderful if you're a ten year old, but not so great if you arrive at quarter to 2 with a small child in a wheelchair and a tiny loon with no patience and find yourself in a queue that winds itself around the building. Especially as my mother had phoned ahead to make sure we could go straight over with the wheelchair with no problems.

Lost adrift in a turbulent sea of scores of screeching children with a worrying lack of manners, I started to lose it. To cut a long story short, the staff at reception made me despair at the state of humanity (and the education system) and I ended up wandering around in a towel looking for change for the locker. This is why I pay a monthly membership for the Village. That and the Village has ample room to do hair and make up when you're done working out.

Anyway, that's the kind of thing I have to put up with now that I'm no longer living the glorified student life. One small mercy is that I had to come back to Exeter for today's exam and I stayed overnight on campus. It was like being a fresher again, brushing my teeth in my little en-suit, collapsing into bed safe in the knowledge that there was nothing to wake me except an alarm I personally controlled. No one tried to make morning conversation. No one asked me to do the dishes. It was bliss.

The red line is the ridiculous route I took

What made it even better was that I was staying in Holland Hall, which will mean nothing to you if you didn't go to the University of Exeter and will mean everything to you if you did. Back when we lived on campus, hearing someone say, "I live in Holland Hall" was like hearing someone say, "My father wears tweed and shoots pheasant...which the servants then cook." At £6988.80 for a 32 week contract, it's officially like the Mecca of Exeter rah culture. Oh the rumours I've heard about that place...

After searching for it for 20 minutes and seeing no sign of it, I was concerned. I'd lived down that end of the campus two years ago. It isn't a big place. I took the most obscure route possible, finding myself lost more than once. ("Wait...why is there a children's park here? Where am I?" And so forth.) I started to worry there was some kind of Hogwarts-style enchantment over the place so that peasants couldn't see it.

And then I found it. Perched on the perfect spot for stunning panoramic views, close enough to campus to crawl there in the mornings with the least amount of uphill walking (a big problem in Exeter), courtyards, an outdoor dining area, a bar, full English breakfast with a selection of cereals and juices on the side...it lived up to all my expectations. Still, a girl like me with a valleys accent and an aversion to gilets would have burned upon crossing the threshold if it hadn't been during the summer vacation.

So call me a loser, but my trip to Exeter to sit my exam has been like a mini holiday. I got to have fried bread with breakfast, didn't have to share my bathroom, and no one ordered me to go swimming. In reality, I'm not really all that hard to please...

My Blogging Birthday!

Firstly, seeing as this is a post dedicated to the celebration of this date, I know it seems ridiculous to be writing it at 10pm when the day is almost over. But I spent the entire day at a safari park (which is a whole other weird, wonderful and saliva-filled story) and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and get to work.

Somehow it has been an entire year since I started this blog. I started it with no clear vision, knowledge of computers or idea of what I was doing. In fact, it only came about because so many people informed me they liked to keep up to date with my Facebook statuses because, apparently, they're hilarious. Then one night, in a night club in Exeter, a slightly tipsy girl I'd never seen before suddenly called my name.
"Oh wow! I read your status updates on Facebook. I always log in to see if you've said something funny. I love them! Seriously, there are so amazing!"
At that point I decided on two things. Firstly, I needed to change my Facebook privacy settings. And secondly, I needed to start a blog.

And so twenty oddball was born one year ago today and in that time I've blogged about:

- Enormous pants
- A transatlantic love interest
- Hugging Floella Benjamin
- Men who claim to own gondolas (but clearly don't)
- Elves
- Various near-death experiences

And those are just a handful of examples off the top of my head.

Actually, when it's all laid out like that, I have to acknowledge that it's been a really weird year...

But, what's very depressing is the fact that, even though the last year has seen me travel Europe, graduate from university and survive the Eurovision, I've somehow wound up in exactly the same place as I was when I first started twenty oddball. In my first ever blog post I wrote...

"At 21 years old I find myself back at my parents' house during the summer break from uni, and very, very single"


And here I am, exactly one year later, back at my parents' house after graduation, and very, very single. I'm not convinced that I've really made that much progress.

But, if nothing else seems to be moving forward at a visible rate, at least my blog is doing well. What started out as a kind of vague mess of ramblings has, during the last year, flowered into a vague mess of ramblings with an accompanying twitter account. And the occasional reader!

And, for the nosey among you, you might like to know that in my first year I've had 6,118 views and my most popular post was F-Words All Round: Freebies, Fun, and Foul Cocktails.

So here's to twenty oddball and let's keep our fingers crossed that my life will continue along unexpected and somewhat bizarre paths so that I can entertain you all for years to come!

Graduation Day: Stupid Hats, Free Champagne and Floella Benjamin

I am now officially Aimee Wellington BA. I've graduated from one of the best universities in the country and have an excessive amount of photos of me in a stupid hat to prove it. It hasn't been easy. Over the past three years I've dealt with grimy student housing, cried at my dissertation supervisor on at least three occasions, threatened to drop out, threatened to never come home, overcome the torture that is first year Approaches to Criticism, and have faced a world of people who wear Jack Wills and say things like "ciao ciao darlings" on a daily basis. On the flip side I've also befriended some fellow loons, learned some excellent drinking games, had some of the best and most ridiculous memories of my life so far, and survived freshers week three years in a row. But where did the time go?

On Tuesday afternoon my mother, father, brother and I packed into the car to head down to Exeter. Of course Rob got shotgun because he's the golden child. My mother claimed it was because he's significantly taller than me, but I'm not convinced. We stayed in a hotel overnight. Graduation was starting at 9am on Wednesday and my butt had to be in my seat at 8:30am so alarm clocks were set (with heavy hearts) for 5:45am. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad, but a certain someone (I won't name names) snored all night long so loudly that even with my sound-proof earphones in and iphone turned up to full volume, the hideous snorting noises kept me up most of the night.

So Wednesday morning I was back on campus, being pinned into my robes (I will never understand why the robes and the hood come separately when it would save a lot of time and safety-pin related injuries if they were attached) and trying to keep my hat on properly. It felt surreal. Surely it wasn't time to graduate and leave Exeter already? It felt like I'd only just started university and here I was about to finish. But, on the grand scale of things it could have been worse. Because the people graduating from masters courses had hats even more ridiculous than mine.

The ceremony itself was fantastic. That was mostly down to the fact that the chancellor of the university is Floella Benjamin, ex-children's TV star and all round just an entirely amazing and highly flamboyant lady. Plus, the woman is sixty five and clearly has not aged a day since her days singing nursery rhymes on the BBC back in the 70s.

Whereas in a lot of graduation ceremonies, graduands are called up in groups of three of four, shake hands with the chancellor and scurry back off stage, in Exeter we get called up one by one, get embraced by Floella who then looks lovingly into each students' eyes and gives some words of wisdom. Rumour has it she whispers something different to every person, but I can't see how that can possibly be true. Either way, when it was my turn to go up on stage I all but threw myself into Floella's arms. She is simply a legend. And her hugs are amazing.

When the ceremony was over and everyone had managed to walk across the stage and hug Floella without falling, the brass band started up and we got clapped out of the Great Hall, which was unexpected. Then I met up with my parents and Rob. My dad was actually a little teary-eyed and, wonder of wonders, to the surprise of all, my mother shooed Rob out of the way so she could get a picture of me. If I'd known all I needed was a BA to knock him off the golden child pedestal, I wouldn't have bothered with my gap year before uni. 

Photos were followed by an abundance of free champagne and cupcakes at the reception. Every time a glass started to look empty someone would appear to top it up, which my mother highly appreciated.

It was at this point that my brother opened the envelope I'd been presented with in the ceremony.
"This is empty." He said.
It's really annoying, but I missed an exam in January and have to take it in August so I can't get my hands on my actual degree until then. Still, it seems a bit random that they'd just give me the empty envelope.

Then, when we'd consumed more than enough champagne, we took a stroll around campus to take even more photos. At some point my mother got hold of the camera and seemed to genuinely believe she was a professional photographer. 
"Ok, tip your head at an angle slightly."
"Oooh, go and lean up against that wall. No, the other way."
"Go and stand behind that tree and kind of peak around from behind it."
"Now lay across that boulder."
I was, during this whole performance, weighed down by the weight of my robes and trudging around in the heat of the sunshine in a black cloak.

But once several hundred photos had been taken in various places with my head tipped at various angles, we headed to Chaucer's, my absolute favourite restaurant in Exeter where I ate so much cheesy chicken with bacon I thought I was going to explode out of my graduation dress. They had a deal on. Buy two classes of wine and get the rest of the bottle free. So my mother and brother got a bottle of wine...each. It made for an interesting mealtime. It was 2pm.

On the way back to the car Rob suddenly stopped in front of the Body Shop.
"Do they sell £1 candles here?" He asked and wandered inside.
"...It's a cosmetics shop." I told him. "Wilkinsons is just around the corner."
"No, no. The moment has passed."
I still have no idea what that moment actually was.

Then, when it was time for my family to leave, they dropped me off at my student house and told me again how proud they were of me because I'm the first Wellington to get a degree. And from the University of Exeter of all places. My mother was particularly enthusiastic. In fact, she kind of squished my face...in a loving way.

"I've never told you this, but before you were born, I went to a physic. She told me not to have you because you'd bring me misery and regret. But look at you! You haven't!"
...Thanks?

And then they drove off into the sunset, returning fifteen minutes later because I'd left my dress for the graduation ball in the back of the car. They loved me slightly less then.

Since then I've spent the last two days trying to cram three years worth of rubbish into boxes and tomorrow I leave behind student life for good. It's gone so quickly. Too quickly. I'm not ready to leave! That said, I'm bored of living off microwavable rice so maybe it's for the best.

"Just Squeeze your Butt and go up in the Air."

My post-university life has continued to idle by in a really boring way. I have no money, nothing to do, no where to go and, worst of all, Jo Frost's Family Matters has finished for the summer so I have nothing to watch while I eat my poorly prepared lunch. On the up side, I'm doing really well at Rollercoaster Tycoon.

I have, however, taken up a new hobby. Hayleigh and I started cheerleading a few weeks ago. If you can look past the fact that I have no co-ordination, upper body strength or balance then it's the perfect sport for me. You know, as in I like big bows and rhinestones. I have an abundance of enthusiasm, but a distinct lack of talent. 

I tried out cheerleading in university and I loved the whole jumping around, throwing people up in the air thing. Plus they had great jackets. But it was really cliquey and high heels were banned from socials. So that didn't work out for me. But this club is totally different. The girls are all lovely and in no way judge the standard of my forward rolls, which are wonky to say the least.

Initially it was a shock to the system to attempt handstands and cartwheels for the first time in over fifteen years. There was a lot of flailing. And falling. Then there are the stunts. Trying to muster the strength to get someone up in the air is a lot harder than it looks. And after last night's practice I'm convinced I'm going to have a foot-shaped bruise on my right boob. On top of that my left wrist hurts and I pulled my groin attempting a somewhat over-zealous jump.

But it's fun! Last night Hayleigh and I were the first pair out of the team bonding game because I couldn't remember the rules and just collapsed on top of her in a state of panic. It was a bizarre and hilarious point in our friendship. So was the awkward head-butt we did when we caught the flyer and kind of accidentally kissed each other.

Perhaps it's a good thing my life has been a little dull lately. There's no way I could deal with random late-night adventures with every muscle in my body aching.

UPDATE!

I simply must share my childlike excitement over the new cheer bows I got in the post. Lauren wanted one for her cheer try-outs yesterday (she did a lot of standing in the corner pouting so I doubt she made the team) and I got really jealous and ordered one for myself. Obviously. I mean, they are obnoxiously large and sparkly. What's not to love?

They're made by Bella Bows on Etsy and look at them! They are absolutely amazing! The detail is fabulous and the quality is great. This lady has some of the nicest designs I've seen and the lowest postage we could find (bonus!) because everyone knows the best cheer bows come from America.

I only have two questions:
1. Can I wear it casually around town because I love it so much?
2. If Lauren doesn't make the team, will it be acceptable to steal hers?

My Life as a Grown Up gets Boring...and Sticky

I know things have been quiet on the blog-front recently. That's an understatement. I'm actually surprised virtual tumble-weeds haven't started rolling across the page. But that's just a reflection on my life right now. No job = no money = no fun = nothing to ramble about. I haven't even graduated yet and I'm already fed up with life as a full-time grown up.

I had every intention of sharing the highs, lows and inevitable humiliations of my night out in Swansea this past Wednesday. Unfortunately I woke up on Thursday morning with nothing more than a vague recollection of a McChicken sandwich and the stench of shisha clinging to my hair (I dread to think how much that cost me) and that hardly makes for a gripping blog post. Seriously though, that was the first and last time I will drink Bacardi. 

Hayfever destroys my face 

I'm meant to be on an exciting adventure today, but I managed to make a pig's ear out of it. Tonight is the Cosmopolitan Super Bloggers Masterclass (or some kind of similar awesome name to the same effect) and I've had my ticket for months. I was counting down the days until I could go up to London, make new friends, learn lots of great tips, and, perhaps most exciting of all, take home an epic goodie bag. Unfortunately, while I was counting down to the 23rd July, the event was in fact on the 23rd June and, while planning a trip to London was never going to be easy, planning one in two days with no money was impossible. Especially when certain friends who live in London refuse to return your frantic messages, begging them to let you sleep on their sofa. I will name no names. Cough cough Tim! I'm so disappointed I can't go!

To make things even more boring (and miserable) my hayfever has forced me to barricade myself in my bedroom. I genuinely thought there could be nothing worse than sitting in my little room with a flannel over my face, wheezing like Joseph Merrick and listening to the rest of the world enjoying the first glorious summer Wales has seen since the Dark Ages. But then I went downstairs and realised all the Jaffa Cakes were gone and I hit a whole new low.

In other news, the fire alarm the firemen installed a few months back started screeching incessantly in the early hours of the morning because the battery was starting to wear out. It wouldn't shut up until someone hit it with the feather duster. This ridiculous ritual would start again every fifteen minutes until I lost my patience and ripped it apart with my bare hands. Now it's just making a feeble, but continuous ticking noise and there are bits of plastic scattered all over the landing.       

So, the past few weeks have been fairly uneventful. But, regardless of how high the pollen count gets and how swollen and sticky my eyes become and, in spite of my ever-dwindling lack of funds, I simply must get out and have some crazy new adventures. Even if it's only because the bloody ticking of that fire alarm is going to drive my crazy otherwise.

The Littlest Loon: Like me, but Smaller and Louder.

My four year old niece, Lauren, is a loon. When her older brother first laid eyes on her he said, "Welcome to this world" as if she was an alien rather than a newborn. At the time we thought nothing of it, but looking back he may have been on to something. At two months months old she started to growl at us. She has only very recently grown out of it.

"...my little diva..."

Cupcake Mumma has a cute little interview with her daughter on her blog called 43 Questions for Midge and I thought I'd steal the idea to try out with Lauren. Unfortunately, I knew my little diva wouldn't have the attention span or patience to sit through forty three questions so I cut it down a little.

When I turned up at my brother's house yesterday afternoon, Lauren answered the door in an Anna dress, high-heeled Snow White shoes, fairy wings, and a face full of make-up. Her left eye was covered in purple eyeshadow and the right eye was plastered with pink eyeshadow. I'm not entirely sure if she was trying to set a new trend with that one. Then she began dancing and referring to herself as Strawberry Girl. It was a while before I could sit her down to answer my questions, but the answers were...interesting.

The following is what happens when you ask a four year old loon questions about herself. Everything I say is in orange, Lauren's answers are in purple and side remarks from Ellis (he couldn't help himself) are in green.

What makes you happy?

....

What makes you happy?

....I'm thinking....

Oh, ok. Take your time.

...Playing with Ellis on Infinity.

What makes you sad?

When Ellis shouts at me when I want to play infinity.

That's a lie!

What makes you laugh?

Bursting balloons.

If you could do anything today what would you do?

Oooh. Anything? If I bought an Elsa doll like my Rapunzel doll with long hair and not any plaits. Elsa one...umm...with the dress.

How old are you?

Four.

How old am I?

*Shrugs*

Have a guess.

...Thirteen?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Princess.

Who is your best friend?

Tommy.

What is you favourite animal?

Oooh. Unicorn!

*Sigh*

What is your favourite song?

You know.

Let it go?

No.

Cutie Patootie?

No. 

Underpuppy?

No.

Gangnam Style?

No! Wreck it Ralph! *Laughs hysterically*

What is your favourite food?

Chocolate.

Where is your favourite place to go?

Neverland.

What are you really good at?

You know. Balancing.

What are you not very good at?

Jumping.

What do you want for your birthday?

The Elsa doll like my Rapunzel one.

What did you do today?

Play princesses.

If you were invisible for a day what would you do?

Umm...go in front of them?

"...a four year old loon..."

So there you have it. It's like a window into the mind of a deranged person. When the questions were over, she looked at me and said, "Now I'm going to follow you wherever you go because I love you. I will follow you. Forever. You can't walk away from me."

"So...kind of like a stalker then?" I said.

"Yeah."

"Ok. Great."

But I want to leave you with this anecdote. Lauren went into my brother's room one morning, woke him up, leaned in close to his face and said, "Mam Morgan is going to die in one hundred sleeps." How creepy is that? We have it marked on the calendar. Just in case.

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.

Life After the Dissertation

I've been back in Exeter for an entire week now and I have the dwindling bank balance and bags under my eyes to prove it. There has been an abundance of cocktails, many bad life choices (I have no idea why I insist on taking advice from strangers I meet in the girls' toilets) and many days like today, curled up in my bed of shame, watching 'Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse' on my brother's Netflix account.

But, while many of my post-dissertation celebrations have involved tacky, overpriced Exeter night clubs and hidden hip-flasks, my housemates and I have found other forms of entertainment over the last few days. Of course, when you live in Devon it's sometimes necessary to think outside the box. The most exciting thing we could find within an hour's drive was a hedgehog hospital, which, if anything, would surely make for a very depressing day out. So, when we decided to seek out fun on Tuesday it was...varied.

"...our cultural adventure..."

I was forced out of my bed of pain at an unearthly hour to go to Brody's all you can eat breakfast buffet. Usually I'm not a big fan of buffets (or salad bars for that matter), but I loved it! Up until the point where I'd eaten so much that it hurt to breathe. It wasn't quite on par with the breakfast buffet I had in Florida (then again, does anyone really need ice-cream for breakfast?), but it was delicious. There is no such thing as too many pancakes.

After a brief time of resting my head on the table with a glazed stare, too full to move or communicate in any way, we headed across the road to the Royal Albert Memorial Museum. I can't say I learned a great deal, but they had costumes to try on and mosaics to play with so it was a big hit with everyone. I particularly enjoyed the World Cultures exhibition, which was a bit like being on the It's a Small World ride in Disneyland. But without the boat. Or the cool music.

When our cultural adventure was over we decided the logical thing to do next was to splurge on white clothing to take home and tie-dye! Let me just say, I had no idea Primark pants was so large. I now have four pairs of enormous tie-dyed knickers, which really aren't in any way as cool as I'd envisioned.

What a great way to pass an afternoon though! Yes, Jess may have dipped her hand into the bucket of purple dye without her glove on and stained her fingers. Yes, we may have forgotten to take the clothes off the washing line before the rain started and made all the dye run. And yes, to anyone walking past our conversations on why whites are easier to work with than blacks may have sounded like the ravings of a group of racists rather than the innocent discussions of a merry band of crafters with fabric dye. But now I have a new skill, some unique t-shirts and some hideous giant pants. Overall I'd call that a success.

I'm glad I have housemates who enjoy a day of trying on ridiculous hats and flicking dye onto pillowcases. How boring it must be to be normal! 

Rumour has it next week we're going to paint mugs!

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.