"We're all going on a Summer holiday..."

I write this post with an air of incredible excitement. In about three weeks time, I will be in Heathrow about to board a flight to Dubai. I can feel all the green eyed monsters eyeing me up right about now. But I do not care, cos I'm going to mother-chuffing Dubai!

I'm in need of this holiday- fair enough- I did go to Mauritius last July for an incredible holiday. But that was like, six months ago.. A hell of a lot has happened in that time. I worked very hard for the past few months and feel more than ready for some March-time sun and sea fun times.

Then- this gets me thinking- a hell of a lot of stuff has happened and changed in the time since my last holiday. For a relatively short time period, I have had major changes in my life. I would even go as far as to be over the top and say they have been life-changing things.

So- July 2010. Sat on *the* most beautiful beach at *the* best hotel, at one of *the* most idillic places I have ever been to. I had just graduated, with a great, (kinda unspecific) degree- a degree, which I think was absolutely fantastic, but requires you to work bloody hard to convince prospectful employers see exactly why the hell my indepth knowledge of ancient Greek philiosophy and Existentialism makes me the ideal candidate to join their organisation. I had landed myself a great volunteering role at a charity which I am actually kinda passionate about. So- I was ticking all the right boxes: academically: TICK. Using my initiative to gain the experience needed: TICK. Making the (possibly unwise) decision to move out of home despite having no job or real savings: TICK.

I honestly didn't think I'd be one of those graduates who would struggle to find a job, I mean, I'm not trying to sound like a big headed prick here- but I have never had any problems in getting a job- I'd always got interviews and bagged the job there and then. Boy, I was wrong. I even applied for a job to be one of those people we all avoid on the streets because they want money for charity. I got the job, but after seeing the looks of horror and pity on my friends and family's faces when I told them- I decided not to go to my first day.. Good job too. Because the day that I didn't turn up for that job, I got the job I'm now working in. Now, if that isn't fate, I'll eat my wooly hat.

Anyway- I (well, my housemate did to be fair) found a flat in Manchester, (before getting a job- that could've gone SO much worse), got a job and defied those statistics.

And I grew up. I like to think of myself as a fine wine, just gets better as it ages. But in this case I haven't really aged one hell of a lot. Just matured, like a good cheese- but that's a shit comparison, so wipe the cheese comment from your memory.

So just think of me in a few weeks time, sat on a beach, with my lovely friend Caz- a now resident of Dubai.. sipping on my glass of Merlot and eating cheese and crackers- (please note the symbolism of that..) and thanking the Gods of fate because I don't have to eat my wooly hat.

(p.s. thanks to Nia for giving me something to write about this time round re. conversation over a cup of tea last night... *puts on mancunion accent* "cheers love")