Straight after the indulgence of Christmas comes the self-loathing of January. Suddenly eating 13 mince pies in a single sitting - which seemed nothing short of genius at the time - is an obscene idea. The Christmas tree looks slightly menacing and grotesque, and those cosy nights in front of Westworld have been replaced by evenings in front of … Continue reading 2017.
May this post be read with interest by nobody other than my own mother and maybe myself in years to come. 2016 was a blur - it absolutely sped by - and although there were definite downs, I feel I have come out the other side a lot stronger and a lot more 'me' than … Continue reading 2016.
Much to my mother's disdain ('what are you, 8?'), I am a big birthday person. It's not so much that I like to be the centre of attention - quite the opposite in fact - or that I like party games and endless rounds of pass the parcel. Rather, it's more that your birthday gives … Continue reading Maastricht.
There's nothing I love more than a nice long walk. Some people take showers, some people head to the pub, but when I'm feeling a little overwhelmed I walk. I walk and I walk and I walk until my head starts to detangle and everything comes back into focus. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes I listen … Continue reading A Walk in the Woods.
Venice has never really been top of my list of places to visit, simply because I've seen and heard so much about it, it kind of feels like I've been a thousand times over. From the postcard sights to the ever-so-famous smells, it's always felt as if visiting Venice would be just a little bit underwhelming. And my reluctance wasn't … Continue reading Venice.
Italy is a country that has always enchanted me, and yet I haven't seen nearly as much of it as I'd like. I elected to study Italian at university, hoping that by the end of four years I'd be scooting around the streets of Florence on my Vespa, living a life that only The Lizzie McGuire … Continue reading Verona.
3rd September 2015, 3.15pm. I was standing in Liverpool airport with my mum as she wipes away my tears, check-in assistants eyeing us up with faces of professional concern. Whilst tears are pretty standard for me in an aiport due to my crippling fear of flying, this time my hysterics were nothing to do with … Continue reading One Year.