Confessions From Under My New Duvet

Love sleep, love life right? Well I am definitely a lover of all things slumber related hence the name of my blog so when The Fine Bedding Company contacted me and asked if I would like to try out one of their luxury duvets the answer was a swift yes. The Fine Bedding Company are a family run business who take sleeping seriously. They produce products for lovers of a great nights sleep and manufacture a variety of products from duvets and pillows to mattress protectors and toppers. The brand have recently had a refresh and are sporting a brand new logo and duvets are now supplied in storage bags for easy storage.

After completing a short survey which identified my sleeping needs I was sent a 10.5 tog, Goose Feather and Down duvet. This duvet is part of the natural range and is made up of 85% goose feather and 15% down which has excellent thermal qualities so it is perfect for winter. I unbagged my duvet when I returned from a recent trip to Dubai and the timing could not have been more perfect. I can honestly say that this is by far the best duvet I have ever owned. It feels so snuggly. It is the perfect weight and keeps me really warm at night and that's coming from someone who lives in an old house with single glazed windows. The only downside is that I am loathe to drag myself out of bed in the morning! The storage bag it came in is also perfect for storing my summer duvet neatly.

The duvet can be purchased from The Fine Bedding Company website where you can ask the "sleep experts" what the right duvet is for your needs. I would definitely consider purchasing other products from The Fine Bedding Company based on the quality of the product I received.


My top tips for a good nights sleep:

• Put down your smart phone and pick up a book! Studies show the light from the device keeps the brain active instead of getting it ready for sleep.
• Create a calming atmosphere. I light scented candles and use a lavender sleep balm.
• Try to stick to a bedtime routine (they're not just for children!). I struggle to go to bed at the same time but try to apply my moisturiser in bed as a way of relaxing.

Walking Back To Happiness

The title of my post is somewhat ironic as it is currently the one thing I can't do! I am not being self pitying again, I mean I literally can't walk.  2013 was a summer that promised sun, sea, sand and well you know how the rest goes. Instead it's been a summer of casts, crutches and confinement. Let me explain...

Six weeks ago I was at my local music festival T in the Park, a three day event which this year happened to fall on one of the country's hottest weekends. I was extremely happy. The sun was shining, the drink was flowing and I was jetting off to Ibiza the Monday after. However, lets just say an unfortunate incident involving a high speed rugby tackle and the subsequent cry of "pile up" which I was on the bottom of meant that when I was meant to be flying to the hedonistic white isle I was in surgery having my left foot operated on.

Before

After

What everyone thought was a sprained ankle turned out to be something much more complicated called a Lisfranc Fracture. It is named after the French doctor who discovered the injury during the Napoleonic War after several soldiers fell off their horses with their foot/feet still in the stirrup (although many cases back then resulted in amputation!). Sadly my doctor wasn't French. Although a tall, handsome doctor name Jean would have been welcomed! I digress... To keep it simple all of your metatarsals (toe bones) connect to the middle of your foot; the point in your foot that bears all of your weight. My second and third metatarsals fractured and moved slightly to the left meaning I had to have surgery to insert plates and screws connecting them to my big toe and therefore realigning them. It is apparently quite a rare injury and far more serious than it actually sounds. Long-term it means a possible twelve to sixteen weeks in a cast, eight of which will be non-weight bearing i.e. I can't put my foot down at all, a second operation to remove the plates and screws and a lengthy course of physiotherapy with possible pain, discomfort and swelling for up to eighteen months and a high risk of developing arthritis. Is it wrong all I can think about is how long before I can wear high heels? This is not something I have asked my consultant, well at least not yet but it factors high on my list of shallow concerns.

So my epic summer has turned out to be not so epic. I've put off blogging despite having an abundance of free time to write and a sleep pattern (or lack of) that lends itself to the craft. What a waste of six weeks eh? To be fair for the first two weeks I was literally wasted on prescription drugs and found the task of putting on clothes taxing enough. However, four long weeks have passed since and I think the real reason I haven't blogged is that I have found myself scared to write stuff down because once I see it in black and white I have to acknowledge how I actually feel about the aforementioned "stuff" and sometimes it is easier to avoid how we feel than confront it.

I was pretty optimistic about it at first (the drugs!?) but once the realisation set in I cried a lot. No holiday, no freedom, no adventures. "You'll just have to do something later this year or next year to make up for it" cry the gaggle of advice givers. However, what they fail to realise is I'll be 28 next year. My summer of 27 is forever gone. Don't get me wrong my summer has not been a total washout. My family and friends, while being extremely supportive, have also tried their best to keep me entertained. I have even managed a trip to the Edinburgh festival in a wheelchair and a visit to the pub complete with crutches and if I'm being honest I think the vodka diet irn bru helped me rather than hindered me! Furthermore, being the fiercely independent chappess that I am, I moved back into my own flat and complete with tea-trolley, bath chair and a lesson learned about not climbing onto stools to get stuff out of the top of the wardrobe, I am doing pretty well.

At the Fringe. How sexy is my wheelchair?!

God I'm bored though! We all crave endless amounts of time off work but in reality how would you fill it especially if you were down to one leg?! I decided pretty early on that daytime TV would not become my companion, anyway after a few days Gino D'Acampo really started to grind my gears, so I made a long list of to-dos! However reading that book, painting those frames and writing that blog post have all taken a backseat to Candy Crush (hangs head in shame), pointless internet hours and Breaking Bad. Boredom is definitely life's greatest battle.

The last six weeks have afforded me a lot of thinking time and a lot of the time that thinking has been hard to handle. Usually we can escape our thoughts. Some people throw themselves at their work, other people throw themselves at drink. Most of the time we find some distraction to stop our brains going into self-analytical melt down but it seems I can't run from my thoughts. A slight feeling of cabin fever has ensued coupled with a dangerous lack of routine which has often left me lying awake all night and lying in bed all day only to be shaken into action by the prospect of a visitor. It is hard to motivate oneself for just oneself. So yup, what I am saying is that I am more than a bit lonely. It's more than that though, I feel caged. I can't just get up and leave and that feeling of dependence is one that jars with my psyche. However, like the song says: "everybody needs somebody" and maybe this last six weeks has finally proved that to me. No man is an island and despite having a big group of friends and an even smaller group I can call my best friends maybe it is time I took those words on board.

I met up with an old friend when I broke up with my ex two years ago. We hadn't seen each other in six years. He said I had changed, that there was something harder about me and I hate to say it is not a phrase that has been used solely by him. Hard, tough, cold maybe I'm just scared. I'd like to think the experience as a whole is having a positive effect. I have jokingly said that I plan on going off the rails when the cast comes off and have more than once thrown the phrase YOLO about. But it's true, you only live once. Every moment, every minute is important... even the ones spent angling a hairdryer down your cast to alleviate the itching!

Sunday Blues

I've got the "Sunday Blues". My fragile little mind and body are definitely not friends today. I keep wondering to myself when I first experienced this feeling. Did I ever feel like this as a child when my Sundays were spent with my sister creating fictitious worlds where bedroom carpets became seas and cupboards under the stairs became entire worlds? Or as a teenager when my Sundays were spent lying in, doing homework and staying up to watch the late night Channel 4 film? In all honesty, I know when I'm going to experience "Sunday Blues" and I know why because I've experienced it more in the past two years than ever before.

Alcohol and singledom are a lethal combination. Everyone feels rubbish when they are hungover but when there is no one to wrap their arm around you feelings of patheticness and self-loathing ensue. I am pretty disappointed in myself for allowing my thoughts to wallow in such murky puddles of self-pity. However, beyond being disappointed, I am angry that the lack of a cuddle can darken my evening. I am usually the optimistic member of my gang. Proffering words of wisdom and a kick up the bum to melancholy friends far and wide but it's hard to be happy all of the time.

I have a feeling that this current case of "Sunday Blues" may be augmented by the fact that everyone around me is moving on or changing. Marriage, babies, future plans and fears. None of which I grudge but all of which seem very far away from me; glinting in the distance, something I am inexplicably drawn to but can't reach for now. At one point in my life I was certain that all of this would be in the bag by the time I turned thirty and now I'm not sure if it will or whether I want it to...

A man once said:

Sometimes life’s so much cooler when you just don’t know any better and all the painful lessons have not hammered your head open yet.

I think everybody reaches a point in their life where this is true. I think it's called adulthood. Damn you "Sunday Blues".

Easter Holidays: Week One

My Easter Holidays Week One:

Friday:
Made lunch for my Mum then went shopping. Bought new boots from Topshop and had a mini Primark splurge (including the above black and white sandals).

Saturday:
Went to Glasgow with my fellow Claire's on Saturday. Managed a quick look in the new Forever 21 but it's so big it will require a whole day visit!

Sunday:
It was a bank holiday Monday so we went to see a local tribute band. I wore a new dress from River Island and taupe spiked Litas (finally treated myself to the real deal).

Monday:
Had Easter lunch with my parents and grandparents. My evening was spent on the couch having an American TV marathon eating chocolate. Plus the sun finally came out (so of course I took a picture of my door - as you do!).

Tuesday:
Went to a restaurant in Culross called the Red Lion with my sister Lauren. The steak was to die for and you had to wear an apron as it was brought out on a sizzling plate. Lauren stayed over and we had a Girls marathon.

Wednesday:
DIY!! I began the mammoth task of painting the hall.

Thursday:
Attended the Zen Lifestyle blogger event with Cat. See previous post.

Friday:
Finally finished painting the hall and bathroom. My parents came round for tea and mum stayed as we had an early start in the morning because...

Saturday:
We went to the infamous Scout Sale in Morningside, Edinburgh. I spent a grand total of £3.50 and got a set of coasters, two cushion covers, a shirt from West Germany(?), some new books and a letter holder (not pictured). It was absolute granny shoving chaos! We then went to Ikea for lunch and I bought the obligatory scented candles, some lovely new teal towels and the main reason for the trip a massive rug for my living room. We drove past my granny's childhood home and got lost in the countryside. I had a banging Saturday night and finished painting my kitchen roof.

Sunday:
Today I finished painting the kitchen and bought colours for the kitchen and bedroom feature walls. At night I had a meal with the girls at our favourite restaurant to hear about my friend Leigh's trip to Thailand.

Being a teacher I get 12 weeks off a year (don't hate me!) Sometimes it feels like I have done nothing with my holidays so it helps to write it all down. I hope you've enjoyed a wee sneak peak at my life.

Happy Birthday To Me?

My 27th Birthday

I've not written in a diary since I was about 17 or 18 and yet here I find myself ten years later keeping a public diary for the entire world to see... But grown-ups don't keep diaries though do they? Passed adolescence we've got our heads all figured out right; we shouldn't need to write down our feelings to understand them? I suppose I held that viewpoint. Once I left home I was an adult and sitting in my bedroom scribbling down my world views on boys and music seemed trivial. However, If I'm honest, the real reason I stopped writing in my diary is because I was afraid of what I might learn about myself and that I wasn't always happy. We spend a lot of our time trying to show the world that we are happy. On the online diary that is Facebook I don't post pictures of myself crying (heaven forbid) and I try to avoid too many "Woe is me!" statuses because being happy's important.

So this week when my relationship ended I said nothing. I posted lots of pictures of myself smiling. I made plans for my birthday and got on with trying to be happy (okay, there were maybe a few whiney Twitter statuses but nobody pays attention to them *she says convincingly*). And so I'm sitting in my parents spare room so that when I wake up tomorrow I can be surrounded by people who love me with presents, writing in my online diary... 17 year old Clare masquerading in a 27 year old body.

It'd be easy to say not much has changed but it has. I'm definitely a wiser and richer person for all of the experiences life has allowed me to have in the last ten years, the people that have been a part of my life and the love that I've been shown and continue to be shown. And maybe I'm not completely happy as the clock ticks twelve and sends me into my 27th year on this planet but I'm grateful for so many things. Including this little space, my online diary of sorts, because sometimes it just helps to write it down. I hope I never forget that again.

It's Not You... It's Me.

I'm sure the majority of you that have ever ended a relationship have used the phrase "It's not you... It's me." But how many of you actually meant it? I find myself in a new relationship, my first fresh relationship in six years, which is causing me to re-evaluate my opinion of myself and whether the view I have of my last relationship is extremely rose-tinted in my favour.

We are great at admitting our superficial-flaws: I need to eat more healthily; I've not been to the gym this week; I need to try harder at work etc... but to hear your real-flaws said out loud can often feel like a knife to the ego. Nobody likes to be criticised however, I find myself turning my thoughts painfully inward in an attempt to see what others see and recognise my negative traits. My reason for doing so is that I find myself behaving in a way that's not reared it's head since my last relationship...

I am bossy. I am childish. I am critical. I have a temper. 
I never think I'm wrong. 

Phew. I almost feel like I should have a name badge and be receiving a round of applause. I suppose the above are issues I have to address. However, It's not that easy changing your spots, as I am currently finding. My new relationship has made me reflect on my last relationship a lot, which I suppose is natural given the length of time we were together and operating on the Sex and the City theory that it takes half the time you dated someone to get over them (Christ, that means three years then!). Yes, I ended the relationship and yes, I probably threw around the "It's not you... It's me." phrase without actually meaning it. However, when you end a relationship which is essentially floating along nicely because you're in the midst of a quarter life crisis* you've got to focus on the negatives to convince yourself you've done the right thing... which I did. Consequently, it's got to the point where I can't quite recall how I felt in the beginning; where I'm struggling to remember the good stuff which far outweighed the bad but maybe that's what's required to move on.

It has been strange moving into my new home; unpacking items that have been in boxes since the end of my last relationship and recognising the resurfacing of characteristics I don't necessarily want to possess. I think I'll always be bossy but hopefully I'll learn how to deal with the rest (or find a man that will!).

*or mid-twenties menopause as I've recently heard it being labelled!

Turn Your S. A. D. Light On

I bought a pair of work trousers from Asda today. Bog standard, boot-cut, bargain basement £12 trousers. I have not worn anything of the boot-cut variety since 2010 when I had my interview for my current job and traipsed to Next for a suit and matching jewellery. The item was rarely worn again for several reasons 1) it's not really my style 2) whenever I did wear it pupils asked if I was going to a funeral and 3) it restricted my ability to lark around playing "Bear in the Woods" and such like (yes, this is what I do on a day to day basis). I mention this because I am having one of those days where I feel utterly bleugh! We were recording in class today and I caught a glimpse of myself on camera and I felt completely drab and that forbidden word... old. I slept in this morning and in doing so went to work wearing yesterdays make up and a pair of petite trousers. The worrying thing about this is I am not petite therefore teamed with a pair of chelsea boots I looked like an urchin who had grown out of her clothes especially when I threw on my two sizes too big, sheepskin charity shop jacket. A great man once said, "Success is dependent on effort"... if only I could find it.

Effort is my enemy this month because everything seems to require so much of it. January is the month we take stock of our lives. We reflect on the year past and look to what we are going to achieve in the year ahead and tell ourselves we'll do it as better human beings (I will cleanse, tone and moisturise every day. I will use my gym membership more often). Only, January is such a shitty month to make the effort. It's dark, it's cold and everyone's skint. Tomorrow I have promised I will get up when the alarm goes off. I will put my make up on properly and attempt a proper hair style. I will eat breakfast and make up my packed lunch and I will put on my new work trousers and a pair of heels even though I want to live under layers (for layers read duvet) until the dark mornings cease.

I'm not unhappy. In fact I've got lots to be happy about and I am and it's a nice feeling. I suppose I'm just a little S. A. D... And wanting to crawl under the duvet until spring is not helping me become a "better human being" however, it might mean more confessions are made from under it!

For more information on S. A. D. see this website: 
http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/Seasonal-affective-disorder/Pages/Introduction.aspx 

Where Have You Been...

Where indeed have I been? A paltry three posts since my return from Thailand. Excuses...

1) Well I've been working on an epic Thailand post which seems to be taking forever to compose.

2) I've also been really busy at work. The first term's always a busy one; finding your feet and getting back into the swing of things after six weeks off. (Don't all feel sorry at once!)

3) I've lost my resident photographer as my sister has moved in with her long term boyfriend.

4) Last but not least I have been completely and utterly preoccupied with the purchase of my first flat! It's taken me over a year to reach a stage in my life where I feel confident enough to make such a big decision but I think it's the right time and I've found a gem of a flat. I move in in less than two weeks and am beyond excited. It's a beautiful old building, late Victorian with feature fire places in every room and my own patch of garden. I've been obsessed with gumtree and eBay the past few weeks looking for furniture and items to decorate the home or should I say "my home".

So there are my excuses. Quite valid I think! I've shared some of my latest Instagram pictures (excuse the list but I am posting from my phone) including a shot of my new flat, some daily outfit shots, DIY projects and some shots from a few nights out. I hope you are all well and I can't wait to share some "home" posts with you!

1. My new flat!  2. Blazer - Topshop // Shoes & Belt - Vintage (£4 & £2) // Necklace - Forever 21  3. Clip on earrings as collar tips  4. Scarf & Cardigan - Vintage (£2 & £15)  5. DIY studded jacket  6. Mascara - L'Oreal Double Extension Beauty Tubes  7. Disco Pants - American Apparel // Shirt - Vintage (£1.50) // Necklace - Forever 21  8. Wool Blazer - Vintage (£12)  9. Dress - Forever 21  10. Camisole - Forever 21  11-13. Shirt - Vintage (£9) // Necklace - Primark

Don't think. Just do.

I am chronically indecisive. I like to weigh up the pros and cons before committing myself to something. I spend hours reading reviews. (I suppose that's why I like beauty and fashion blogging so much!) I wouldn't say I was a worrier per se but I definitely like to be positive about the decisions I make in my life. Whether that's choosing the right facial cleanser or skinny jeans, or buying a house or starting a new relationship. I suppose I have high expectations or set ideals of how I think my life should be, which is strange considering that a year ago this month I shattered those very ideals by giving up my carefully considered life and moving back in with my parents.

I've learned a lot of things this year. For one thing, life doesn't necessarily work out the way you thought it would... I was doing an exercise with my students today. They had to write a wish list of things they wanted to achieve by the time the were 30. I thought about what my list would have looked like at 13. I think, looking back, my 13 year old self was more ambitious than my twenties self but I can safely say that I got a little bit of that 13 year old back this year. On reflection, that was part of the reason I changed things so drastically a year ago. I was busy over-thinking when the right time in my life to become pregnant was and whether I'd be able to get married and buy a bigger house and produce said child before I was 30 and then, from somewhere deep within, that little 13 year old voice inside me said "Who cares... I want to go to Thailand... I want to fly a plane... I want to move to London" (or whatever your little voice says inside you).

So don't think. Just do. A motto I've been trying to apply to life which, as I said, is difficult for an indecisive person who loves nothing more than a deep and meaningful discussion. I suppose one area I've maybe failed to apply this motto to is my love life. This is an area I definitely tend to over think... However, it has been a challenging year romance wise with many a lesson learnt. I am definitely much wiser and loathe to say older!

I think when I sacrificed what I had, which was quite a beautiful and precious thing, I had to be certain of what I wanted in the future and this has perhaps meant I've treated future relationships like I treat buying a new object; reading the reviews, weighing up the pros and cons and analysing the results. In doing so am I taking the enjoyment out of things? Am I thinking instead of doing; instead of living? I'm currently "mid-experience" which is challenging me not to think so much. To do and in doing enjoy. Next week I'll have quite possibly cracked my pros and cons list out although I'm trying desperately to limit that to house purchasing and beauty buying.

Penny For Your Thoughts

  

Shirt, Vest & Rings - Topshop // Skirt - River Island // Converse - Office // Shilling Necklace - Vintage

So the count down to Thailand is on! 18 more sleeps to be precise and my mother is worried about my casual attitude towards my holiday preparations. She does not appreciate that I've got it all under control or being told to chillax... 

Actually it's 4 more sleeps now and the reality of my casual attitude and the adventure I'm about to embark on is all beginning to sink in. I have things to buy and a rucksack to fit everything into. My day has been an endless list of "to-dos" or "to-buys". On top of this I've been neglecting the gym since T in the Park and am currently in a quandary over a possible property purchase. Things are never simple are they? I think the fact of the matter is that when I booked this trip to Thailand I never thought it would actually arrive. When I bought my rucksack it seemed like a glimmer in the distance. And when my sister cracked out her notebook and started marking locations on a map of Bangkok it was still a trip someone else was taking. But I am taking it. This is a trip I've wanted to take since I was 14 and the reality of it is quite scary.

I'm escaping the rain, which has featured in the majority of my outfit posts since the summer holiday began, and heading off to a land of temples, smiling faces, jungles, beaches and thai food. And maybe I'm escaping all the thoughts that have been in my head for the past year... thoughts about my job, my living situation, my love life. I know these things won't go away but maybe I'll be able to think on them with a clearer head when I return. If I can blog when I am away I will... If not then Bon Voyage, I'll see you all in August!

You're Not Nineteen Forever

I've been slightly absent from the bloggersphere for the past month. I have purchased many a shoe and succumbed to the make up phenomenon that is Estée Lauder Double Wear but I've not really had the time or the desire to post. It's been a funny old month and I've mulled over many a thing. I think it comes with the anniversary of my returning to the nest. It certainly doesn't feel like a year and I certainly didn't think I'd still be in the nest one year later. The truth is I'm completely at a loss as to what to do next...

I'm not 19, far from it. And although I am frequently and generously told I look younger, the face staring back at me on the treadmill seems to disagree. As does my birth certificate! I am 26 and living with my parents. When I was 19 I thought this was the height of "uncool" yet here I am. I curse the quarterlife crisis that made me rock the boat that was so calmly and purposefully sailing along. But I had to be like Pocahontas... I didn't want the smoothest course... I wanted adventure and excitement. Only thing is, I can't decide what kind of adventure I want to have. My brain is firing an arsenal of questions at me daily. Do I continue to save for a flat? Do I bite the bullet and rent on my own? Do I stay where I am or move away? Is my job the right job for me? ... These would be far easier to answer if I was 19 because then I'd pack up for the summer and wave goodbye to these decisions because it wouldn't really matter about making them.

I sort of feel like I've lived my 20s in reverse. Relationship, mortgage and cat when I should've been reckless. And now that I want to reckless I can't because I am a grown up - I am a grown up with a grown ups job. Fact. I keep telling my friends in similar situations that 26 is young. "Honestly, it's the new 21!" I say nodding and smiling excessively in an effort to convince myself as well as them... But it IS... right? I mean Carrie and the gang were all in their 30s when Sex and the City began. *Gulp* We're obsessed with age as a society, especially the age of women. Take for instance the Caroline-Flack-Saga. Nobody cared about anything other than that poor woman's age. Cougar. Cradle snatcher. If she was a man she'd have been called... well, nothing because people wouldn't have batted an eyelid. I try not to let the age thing bother me but unfortunately it seems to follow wherever I go. Whether it was the annoying yet flattering 19 year old demanding to see my drivers license in order to prove I was "old" or the 21 year old who said that if she hadn't settled down and was secure in her life by 26 she would consider herself a failure or heading to a club night and realising the attire for the evening was hot pants, high-tops and trucker caps ...Oh don't mind me, I'll just retire to the corner and weep while you shimmy around with your lithe mahogany limbs doing the duck-pout! (I am not bitter obviously)

And so I return to my original quandary: 26, living with my parents and unable to make a decision. Perhaps this year I'll manage to be a little more decisive, who knows I may make the decision that shapes my future "course"... I at least hope that I can make a decision at some point this year because I don't think this article will read so well if I'm writing it at 27!

Damn Disney

I love Disney films. Some of my earliest memories are of watching Disney films or pretending to be a Disney princess. I am unbeaten at Disney trivial pursuit and don't ever ask me to to sing Disney songs when I have had a drink. There have been renditions of "Part of Your World" in front of Cafe Mambo in Ibiza and "We'll Have a Dalmation Plantation" to a rather shocked crowd in Zante. (I clearly have no shame.) In Disney films the rules are simple; there are heroes and villains but good always triumphs over evil and a moral lesson is always learned. More importantly the guy always gets the girl and they live happily ever after... And then there is reality.

As a child we expect our own lives to one day mirror the fairy tale ending Disney promised us. To be swept off our feet by a knight in shining armour. To be enveloped in a cloud of romance and have sweet nothings whispered in our ear. The reality is somewhat different but then again I'd be stupid to expect anything different - right? Should I be content with my "partner" washing the dishes without being asked as the high point of my romantic-life?

I've been thinking a lot recently about romance and men and womens' roles in the old relationship game. It seems that the most romantic thing a person can do nowadays is declare their love via a Facebook status. To expect anything more, as a woman, is to be called needy or hard-work. To dream of romance is to quite literally to live in a fantasy world. But if there's no butterflies then what's the point? I know butterflies don't last forever. And I know that eventually it's the simple, caring gestures that become the most appreciated; like running someone a bath or yes... washing the dishes but surely there's always room for romance? So yes Disney, sometimes I damn you for giving me such high expectations but I also thank you because I'd rather be a dreamer, rather live in my fantasy world, than give up on romance.

"So this is love. So this is what makes life Devine. " Cinderella.

The Human Condition

There are some things we never say out loud because we don't like the way it sounds. Things like "This isn't working." "I live with my parents." or the biggie... "I'm lonely." But are these the very things we need to start saying aloud? Do we need to acknowledge the negatives in our life in order to turn them into positives? Are we simply being protected by pride or held back by vanity?

This onslaught of heavy-thinking was brought about after a weekend in bed with the flu and a session with my Sex and the City boxset. In the episode All or Nothing, Samantha; the strong, independent, man-eater of the group, also catches the flu. She says "There are two types of guys out there - the ones that hold your hand and the ones who fuck you. And the ones that fuck you aren't worth a damn. We're alone."  This struck a particular chord with me dear readers (and not only because I had neither a man to hold my hand or... well... you catch my drift!). Looking in the mirror, in the midst of all the sweat and snot, I finally understood the phrase, "She has a face only a mother could love." and gazing at my ghastly reflection I doomed myself to an eternity of life in the boxroom, alone and lonely. Because, despite being dutifully nursed by my mother, that is exactly how I felt - lonely. I am definitely at my most maudlin when I am ill. I played Jeff Buckley on repeat and stared into space until my eyes hurt. 


Now that I am back to full health I can attribute my feelings of loneliness to "just feeling sorry for myself." But should I? I hark back to my original quandary: Are we protected by pride or held back by vanity? Pride will mean I'll brush off my feelings from last weekend, smile and soldier on and in doing so I'll save myself a lot of difficult conversations. Cue reactions from friends, "Oh you're lonely... Emmm, I'm not really the hugging type of friend." or even worse "Your loneliness is pathetic." 

However, determined not to be held back by vanity I voiced my loneliness and I was not greeted with awkward responses but genuine concern and some cheer me up flowers and a card. Once I'd said it, I felt better. My cold subsided, the weather changed and I felt positive again. March has been an interesting month. Unfortunately I am another year older and the older I get, the more contemplative I become.  It has been one roller-coaster of a year and I cannot begin to express how much has changed. I suppose part of that change has been recognising myself as an individual again; spending a lot of time alone with my thoughts and asking myself what I want from life. Nearly a year on from the break up and the birth of my quarterlife crisis I am still asking myself those questions and learning to accept that I may be asking those questions for some time... And p.s. yes, sometimes I get lonely. 

Why is admitting you are lonely so taboo; the fear of failure? I know so many people who are unhappy or unsatisfied yet they soldier on, keep up appearances because they'd rather be unhappy than be lonely. A lot of people this year have said I'm brave - I wonder if it's because I have faced their biggest fear? This has been the most difficult post I have written. Partly because of vanity and partly because I wasn't exactly sure what the point of this post was but I think I see it now... while pride has its place, it is definitely okay to feel lonely, or sad or lost. Nobody is strong all of the time; we're only human after all.

Plenty Of Fish In The Sea

You might have heard of the phrase POF doing the rounds recently. It stands for "Plenty of Fish" and it's a free online dating and matchmaking service for singles. My friends and I set up a fake profile for a look as we had heard it was the new Facebook for singles. However, what we ended up discovering was that it was a hub for cheating boyfriends and bootycalls. Internet dating is big business. Who hasn't sung along to their catchy TV jingles? "I like old movies." or "Girl on the platforms smile." The people in these adverts are attractive and sensible looking individuals who, according to the adverts, have a greater chance of finding their perfect match online. True or False?

Okay, so curiosity killed the cat. I edited my profile and downloaded the iPhone app and had a proper browse minus any photos. Could I find MY perfect match online? The site is interesting. A mixture of people genuinely looking for a relationship, people looking to date and people simply looking for sex. Cue 1000s of pictures of naked torsos and tight underwear with not always positive results.

I set my status to "Looking to date" and struck up a few conversations. "How's POF been for you?" "Caught any fish?" etc. I wanted to find out if people actually met up or if POF was just a grown up version of MSN. I did, rather impulsively, meet up with one guy for fish and chips (an attempt at an original mini date if you will). We had completed similar degrees and happened to have a few mutual friends. The date went well but as a girl with relatively little dating experience, it's safe to say first dates are a bit of a nervous affair. I also question whether these essentially blind dates are ever wholly successful. It's easy to have chemistry with someone via instant messaging, however, I wonder whether having a spark online always results in having a spark in the flesh.

I decided if I was going to have a profile I might as well go the whole hog and put up some pictures. Even if only to compare results pre and post pictures. As a result, after a week and an abundance of emails, I deleted my profile. Messages asking for sex from men with inappropriate pictures. Messages from men nearing my dads age. Sometimes wonderfully witty messages from men who were, no doubt lovely chaps, but were certainly not my type of fish.

I think it's a bit shallow minded and probably a very Scottish attitude but there's a bit of a stigma of desperation attached to dating websites. I wonder, however, if that's just the opinion of a girl who was previously in a five year relationship and who's friends are all in coupled up? I was embarrassed to admit I was using POF. Even more embarrassed to admit I'd went on a date through it and I am fearful of anyone I know actually having viewed my profile. Nevertheless, it seems that anyone who is single (and sometimes those who aren't) is on POF. Do I need to grow up? Do I need to accept that internet dating is where it's at circa 2012?

One guy, very honestly, wrote in his "About Me" section: It's difficult to meet someone who shares the same interests as you on a night out in a club. After university, you rarely get the chance to meet new people and socialise within such a big and diverse circle. And anyway, when you hit a certain age, everyone in that circle begins to or has already paired off. So, true or false... Internet dating provides you with a greater chance of finding your perfect match? Or should we leave it all to destiny and circumstance?

Text and the Single Girl

My impression of being single was always very much based on Sex and the City. Single girls were approached in clubs, bars, coffee shops and the like by eligible bachelors. They went on dates to the cinema, for meals, to bars, for walks in the park, to arcades. And most tantalizing of all, they had fabulous short lived love affairs and frequently met up with their girlfriends and conversed over cosmopolitans. Let’s just say my experience of being single could not be further from this glossy American dream.

Okay, so realistically I know life doesn't work like it does on TV, especially in a wee Scottish village. Secondly, living at home, saving for a deposit, a trip to Thailand and working a nine to five job does not allow me mid-week jaunts to the “city”. And lastly, most relationships develop out of convenience; office romances, high school/ university relationships or getting it on with Harry from your local. But what if your local is your ex's local... Harry plays football with your ex... Your best friends' boyfriends all belong to the same social circle and all drink in the local with your ex and his new girlfriend... It's time to move further afield and close the EX-files, which is exactly what I have been trying to do since I became a single girl.

After being in relationships since the tender age of seventeen I wanted to date. Plus I wanted the chance to just be single, to be completely selfish and *embarrassing cough* find myself. However, in the space of eight months I have went on the grand total of ONE date! This consisted of a few drinks in a pub followed by a Frankie and Bennie's. I refuse to include my brief encounter with a guy I met at a house party which consisted of ordering a Chinese in his mum's house. When I suggested going on a proper date his response was "Eating's gay"... Oh dear.

However, at least these encounters were proper face to face, physical encounters. I have recently started to believe that men are only interested in one thing nowadays... TEXT. So you meet a guy on night out, exchange a cheeky little kiss or two, give him your number and the next day you receive a text. You try your best to be cute, funny, original. You discuss meeting up for a proper date. You start to develop an attachment to receiving his frequent flirty little messages... and by this stage they have become flirty. Then either it fizzles out because there is only so much that can be said before the texts become banal... beep,beep "Hey hows u?" beep,beep "Watching eastenders"... Zzzz. Or you muster up the courage to say "So when are we meeting up?" and the idea of an in the flesh rendezvous renders them finger-less and they never text again.

I for one refuse to have another text relationship. These potted relationships have all the drama of the real thing without the added bonus of face to face conversation, a few drinks and a snog. I fail to see where the payoff is and more importantly they are a complete waste of my time, effort and wit! The worrying thing is whether this is the future. I know fifteen year old girls who, despite sitting next to each other, text instead of talking. My iPhone is a constant extension of my arm and I struggle to function without it. My addiction to social networking is so much so that I check my Facebook and Twitter news-feeds in the morning as if they were my daily newspapers. While I appreciate the benefits of the virtual world we live in it saddens me to think that in the future all relationships will take place on a virtual plain where all "fluid transfers" have been outlawed, babies are made in a lab and sex is enjoyed via the use of sex-helmets. Slightly extreme you ask? A laughable concept? Well you ask your average Joe in 1995, when mobiles and social networking were a thing of the future, whether he would prefer spending all day writing to a girl or taking her out for a drink. I think you know the answer. Hint, hint gentlemen.

Sandra beautifully modelling her sex helmet.

My Funny Little Valentine

So my plan was to compose a post tonight exploring my current situation; single on Valentine's Day for the first time since 2005. Not an anti Valentines post by all means but a post that's a little bit more on the reflective side. However, my computer wouldn't play the game tonight so I am composing a relatively shorter post on my iPhone. (ah the wonders of social networking and the blessed iPhone!)

My last single Valentines was during my student days. I spent the evening with my friends prank calling exes and my poor friend from back home. My friend's boyfriend managed to successfully convince her that her boyfriend had entered her into a competition in Nuts to win a boob job and that the public had voted for her to win. I am lucky we share the same twisted sense of humour because after she'd wiped away her tears and fleetingly considered the offer she managed to see the funny side of it and we remain the best of friends.

7 years on and humour is probably my fail safe way of dealing with things. It's true sometimes when people say "If I didn't laugh then I'd cry"... Although a little cry now and again does help. But being the eternal optimist that I am I have gushed politely at the presents and displays of love thrust in my face today at work and online. I have texted, tweeted and posted jovial remarks on love, sex and relationships. Furthermore, I attempted to spread the lurrv by buying scrummy love hearts for my colleagues. (see pic... p.s. the doughnut was my gift to me!)

I am a firm believer in karma. I believe that my feelings of positivity will be rewarded with beautiful, heartfelt, personal gestures of love... Regardless of whether that love comes from man, woman or my cat, Miss Bonnie Blue! So let's just celebrate LOVE in general. There's no nicer feeling than being loved, regardless of where that love comes from.

This post is dedicated to my single friend Lauren. She thinks I'm a wee gem... And well I think she's one too. It is also dedicated to Claire who had and still has fabulous boobs ;-)

Happy Valentines Day! X

The Only Optimist in the Village?

Sometimes it's difficult to remain optimistic about life especially in January. It is definitely a month for hibernating; for crawling under duvets and eating cake and custard (healthy eating can begin in February.) I can safely say my mission to look on the bright side of life has been tested. That said two very special things have happened this week that cannot fail to put on a smile on my face.

First of all meet Bonnie Blue. The latest addition to the family. I have been looking to fill a cat shaped hole in my life since my ginger moggie, Jaffa went missing in September so here she is. Her name is in homage to one of my favourite films Gone With The Wind and of course is inspired by those beautiful blue eyes. I am in love and fear my Instagram will be chock full of sappy cat snaps.

Miss Bonnie Blue

Secondly, my sister and I are jetting off to Thailand for three weeks this Summer. I could not be more excited! I have wanted to go to Thailand since I was fourteen and madly in love with all things Leonardo DiCaprio aka The Beach. It has taken me nearly 26 years to pluck up the courage to do something like this... I was not the kind of student who could afford a "gap year" and have worked every summer since I left school. 

We booked through Thailand Travel Plan and are including a stay in Bangkok, a journey up the River Kwai, the Erawan waterfall, Kanchanaburi, Chang Mai, a hill tribe trek, an Elephant sacutary, the Temples of Ayutthaya before finishing off with six nights on Ko Pah Ngan just in time for August's Full Moon Party. I am dreaming of Thai food and white beaches already...

Salad Beach Ko pah Ngan

Just Play it Cool Boy... Real Cool

I've been out the dating game for a while... five years to be exact. And to be honest I never really dated when I was younger. I met my first boyfriend at T in the Park. We shared a mutual love for Oasis, he was six years older and I fell in love at first sight. Back then I didn't even have a mobile. I actually think I used to phone his house to arrange to meet up then sit and drink wine in his room (classy). Oh how times have changed and ten years on I find myself in a world where you can not only text, you can BBM, Whatsapp, Kik, Facebook chat, Facebook stalk and Tweet.

So how do you date in 2012? There's always lots of relationship advice in magazines; mainly for people already in relationships:

"How to tell what he's really thinking"
"50 ways to spice up your sex life"
"Is it too soon to say I love you?"
"Why won't he commit?" etc. etc.

There's rarely any advice on dating because the only decent advice, if you no longer want to be single, is to play it cool... something I have never been very good at. Over the past year a lot of my friends have became single and I have realised that sadly, we tend to define ourselves as either having or not having a boyfriend/ girlfriend. I don't think I want a boyfriend at the moment. There are obviously times when it would be beneficial... Sunday duvet days for certain or having someone to drag to Nando's... but for the first time in a long time I'm being selfish. Making decisions just for me and thinking about what I want from life. So instead of making this a post on dating rules as I had originally intended, I am going to look at two of my favourite icons who were strong, complicated, independent, interesting and inspirational women and undeniably cool.

Marilyn Monroe

First, I'm trying to prove to myself that I'm a person. Then maybe I'll convince myself that I'm an actress.


All we demanded was our right to twinkle.


I don't know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot.


I have feelings too. I am still human. All I want is to be loved, for myself and for my talent.


I restore myself when I'm alone.


It's better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone - so far.


Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.

Audrey Hepburn

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it. 

I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.


The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.


The most important thing is to enjoy your life - to be happy - it's all that matters.

Do's and Don'ts

Here are my Do's and DOn'ts of surviving a break up. This list is by no means exhaustive. Looking back there are many more things I could include on my list of "Don'ts" and many more things I want to include in my list of "Do's". In a way it's quite a personal list. It echoes many of my mistakes and a lot of my hopes.

******

Do Nots...

Don't lie in your bed for a week. You are not helping the situation. Sleep will help you avoid it for a while but you'll probably end up being awake all night, alone with your thoughts and listening to melancholic music.

Don't get in touch with your previous ex. They are your ex for a reason.

Don't get in touch with your current ex. Time apart is necessary to move on.

Don't look at pictures of the happy times for a long time. You'll only doubt whether the decision to end it was the right one.

Don't look at their Facebook page.

Don't get involved in drunken conversations with your ex.

Don't ask them if they are seeing anyone else. Those are details you do not need to know.

Don't ever regret the time you spent together or the decision you made to part.

******

Do's...

Be impulsive.
Travel.
Remember who you were when you were an "I" and not a "We".
Kiss.
Call up old friends.
Dance.
Go on adventures.
Be selfish.
Make lists and enjoy ticking them off.
Work hard.
Play hard.
Challenge yourself.
Spend time with loved ones.
Explore music, film, art, books, cultures, food.
Be independent.
Hug.
Frighten yourself.
Be ambitious.
Cry.
Pamper yourself.
Appreciate the time you had together.
Think about the lessons you've learned.
Make memories.
Cherish memories.
Have an opinion.
Take lots of photos.
Laugh.
Smile.

Songs Are Like Tattoos

After reading and liking Learn This Phrase and Romeo and the Lonely Girl's posts on their musical picks of the year I decided to think of the tracks, that for me, will always remind me of 2011...

This song reminds me so much of my summer at Benicassim where the Arctic Monkeys headlined Saturday night. I think Suck it and See is their best album since their debut. I know it's been received with mixed reviews; people saying it's not proper "Arctic Monkeys" but I love Alex Turner's quirky lyrics and The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala is without a doubt my favourite song on the album. My car stereo always gets cranked up at 1.55 and I give it big licks probably much to the amusement of fellow drivers.

The Strokes have been my favourite band since I was 15. I first heard them on Radio 1 and was hooked. I had an eclectic musical background; growing up on a mixed bag of motown and classic and indie rock but I had never heard anything like The Strokes before and every time I heard Last Night or Hard to Explain I had to dance, sing, shout and they still have the same effect on me. Like Arctic Monkeys, I saw The Strokes at Benicassim. Infact, they were part of my reason for going. This song has that distinctive jangly guitar playing of Valensi and Hammond Jr. and Casablancas' grungy vocals. The build up to the chorus, the guitar solo... I could go on. I love this song. <3

I have been back in the boxroom since August without a TV. However, I have had my trusty DAB radio and I discovered Keaton Henson one evening on Zane Low's show. I downloaded the single immediately. The lyrics are painfully stunning and written, when all the best music is written, after a break up. He writes on his website "Dear Unknown, I hope you listen as though it were all for you. I hope she knows it was. I hope you can forget the fact I do both. It meant more before." The B-side Strawbear is also beautiful; my favourite lyrics "Take the clothes from my back and make love to me slow...And you're free to think of all you feel and let go... Do not tell me though" as is his cover of Maps by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs. Big things for Keaton in 2012.

Oh Lana, Lana, Lana, the gangsta Nancy Sinatra. Again, I heard this on Radio 1 and was instantly mesmorised by her voice... and then I saw her. A stunning mix of 50s vintage and bling coupled with bee sting lips and straw coloured hair. This song was on constant repeat for a whole week. Needless to say my love affair with Lana will continue to blossom in 2012.

My Ibiza song. I cannot hear it without being transported back to the Magic Isle and memories of dancing til the sun rose in Privilege and Ushuaia. I did not expect to love Ibiza as much as I did... and I predict my return to the White Island in 2012.

I was a little slow to jump on the Mumford and Sons bandwagon. It was my sister who introduced me to them along with some other artists I've grown to love such as the Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver, Sufjan Stevens, Mike Snow and Jeff Buckley (I can't wait to link with her iTunes again). This song transports me to Benicassim; mojito in one hand looking down onto the crowd swaying back and forward in the warm evening air. Bliss.

This song has dominated the charts since the summer and has been the soundtrack to many of my nights out. The video is stunning and makes me long for a destructive, Requiem for a Dream style romance in denim and brothel creepers.

My little guilty pleasure of the year. Oh how I love Olly Murs!!! The sight of his berry chinos and cheeky grin make me blush like a school girl. The perfect pop song by the perfect pop artist.

What has your soundtrack of 2011 consisted of? Do you have any recommendations for 2012?