The best old friends.

Roz (blonde one) and Eve (brunette one) are my oldest friends. Eve I met when I was in the hospital, barely having taken my first breath in the world. And Roz (the artist formerly known as Rosanna) I met in nursery, just a pair of matching dungarees away from being best pals. 

Tonight, we met at the pub after work, to catch up, drink wine, and laugh at the weird guy who lay, spread-eagled on the grass beside us. These two are the best, best friends. I may be bias, but I'm also always right. 

Weekend bits.

I think I like the weekend more than anybody. I like the Saturday morning pancake stack and the three hour reading sessions, and I like going out for steak and red wine and waking up next to my bald tattooed man. After a more difficult anxiety fueled week, this relaxed food-focused couple of days was God given. I hope you had a good one and ate at least 15 doughnuts. 

Why I want a ginger cat.

Mr Bruce, my boyfriend's feline friend, is the most wonderful creature in the world. I wanted a ginger cat before I even met him, but Mr Bruce really cemented that need. Look at his face, and cry.

Favourites.

This is what my setup looks like most of the time when I'm at home. This, or horizontal on the sofa covered in biscuit crumbs. I spend a lot of time staring at Olivia's sunsets, reading about Joy's ex-boyfriends and wishing I had avocado on toast for breakfast everyday like Tracy. I want to read your blogs and your favourite blogs too. Link me to them below please and thank you.

Here's my favourite blogs this week (some of them every week) -

- Joy the Baker. Always and forever. It's a way of life.
- reading my tea leaves
- Cider with Rosie
- Olivia Rae James
- Hello Flower

What are yours?

Happy birthday to me.

As I said in my last post, I'm 21-years-old now. I celebrated two weeks ago at a big snazzy party for my dad's 50th, my parent's 25th wedding anniversary and my birthday, with dancing and wine and nice friends and family. Then I celebrated this weekend too. Because I like to spread my birthday as far as it will go.

On Friday my boyfriend and I spent the day in London town. London makes me feel enthusiastic about life. It's good like that. Saturday was my actual birthday. There was present opening over pancakes, drinks in a beer garden, and a barbeque. That's how I like to do birthdays. Then on Sunday we went for a pub lunch with my aunt and uncle and my BEAUTIFUL cousins. It was a weekend I was looking forward to with every ounce of my being and it did not disappoint.

Lastly, and most importantly, I would like to draw your attention to the photographs above. They portray two things. The most gorgeous flowers I have ever received (thank you Matt), that boost my mood instantaneously when I walk into the kitchen, and my new swanky camera. Otherwise known as my baby. My happiness levels have increased dramatically thanks to it. My blog is going to be SO SWANKY. #swanky

A new chapter.

I'm 21 now.

I'm a journalist.

I moved back to London.

Sometimes, sometimes the sun comes out.

This is a new chapter and it's surreal and brilliant. Two weeks ago I started a job I didn't think would be possible so soon. I'm a journalist, I'm a writer and I get paid to put my words on paper. That's crazy.

I've moved back home to London for a little while. It's not so bad really. I get dinner on the table when I get home from work, a comforting, familiar bed to sleep in and a family who love me and don't mean to annoy me. My mum fills the house with fresh flowers and that's nice too.

I turned 21. I don't feel any different.

There are juicy peaches to be eaten and occasional blue skies to enjoy barbeques under. It's summer. Although I've got a sneaky suspicion it might already be over. England, you cruel mistress.

I'm learning that life can be surprisingly fantastic, often when you least expect it. You can do more than you think yourself capable of and your fellow humans should be treasured, because they're often great.

Shit happens too, of course. To us all. But sometimes it's just better not to think about that too much.

picture source

Paris - PART FOUR.

This is my last gratuitous Paris post, I PROMISE. It ends with Quasimodo, hot chocolate, a beautiful bookshop and Ellie Goulding.

 Matt and I decided upon Notre Dame as our destination for our final day. Matt has a strange fascination with Quasimodo and sang about the bell tower all week long. We then visited Sainte Chapelle, a stunning stain-glassed church, each window panel depicting a book of the bible. Both were magnificent.

We had hot chocolate in a tea room looking over the river and then hunted out Shakespeare and Co., a famous bookshop that is hundreds of years old and like something from the movies. I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside unfortunately, but I could understand why. The bookshop felt like a secret, with its twisted passages and creaking floorboards, regardless of how many people were bustling around. Books were piled high to the ceilings, only to be reached by attached bookcase ladders, just like in the movies. Upstairs were hundreds of first editions in a tiny room, fully equipped with rocking chair and live pianist. I sat down next a young girl who was sketching away in a battered notepad. It was another world entirely, and I could have stayed for days.

We went for dinner in a very French and relaxed cafe. I ate tomato tarte tatin and Matt had steak. We both had wine. THEN, we walked to Ellie...

She was playing Le Bataclan and as soon as I walked through the doors I forgot I was in Paris (not entirely a good thing). I was at an Ellie gig, and I felt that familiar buzz in my tummy and heart region. Thanks to both the lady herself and her manager, Matt and I were on the guest list. We weren't particularly in the mood for standing sweaty-shoulder to sweaty-shoulder with screaming French kids so opted for the designated reserved seating (oo-err). As always, she was fantastic. I actually got to see her properly too, rather than the usual glimpses I get at gigs when someone in front of me decides to move their head, which was nice. It was, for me - Matt was unconvinced, the perfect end to a beautiful holiday.