Windy Welly vs Wet Wales

Since arriving here on the other side of the world, I have felt totally refreshed and excited to go and do new things, or actively go and seek out different things that will make the weekend a real weekend.

Now I don't know why this is. I certainly did not do this in the UK. I, in fact would have been quite happy to chill at home weekend after weekend after crazy times at work during the week. More often than not, watching those really bad movies on Sky- the ones that you pay a fortune for, yet never really have the urge to watch Christmas movies in the middle of summer, or watching Harry Potter for the billionth time. Even I, with my incredible thirst for all things Potter related. (I am secretly saving to go to that Potter-land in Florida. for the WIN.)

It wasn't until I saw a Lonely Planet book yesterday in a book shop (right next to a book on how to grow KIWI's-oh yes!) on the UK, and the fact that someone I know here has recently left to do a year in the UK did I fully realise (yes-sloooowww on the uptake I know- but hey-what's new there ey?!) that the UK is full of amazing things to do and see. 

Don't worry- I'm in New Zealand and absolutely loving it- I'm not coming back anytime soon.

One of my friends recently went to Liverpool and loved it. I found it refreshing to hear of someone taking a mini break in the UK and loving every minute of it..(says the girl who recently traveled over 11,000 miles to get away from the country. Hypocrite much? I think so).

Despite this factor, I feel that my quality of life here is so much better than it was about 4 months ago. I think it's in part to do with the fact that I shelled out a lot of money on a one way ticket to Kiwi-land and wanting to make the most of every opportunity,or as a friend put it, becoming a "YES" girl. I think that back in the UK I was lazy- and had a very different view on things-more of a stagnant approach to the country I live in. At the risk of sounding like somebody who rarely saw sunlight, with a vitamin D deficiency and no friends- I really wasn't. I visited friends and went to different parts of the country- but I guess I took it for granted- a bit like how I totally took bacon for granted back in the UK. Let's just say- the Kiwi's do not understand a girls need for a proper smoked BLT sandwich to cure a tequila-induced hangover.

                                  Kevin the Kiwi enjoys his favourite tipple..

There's a view that the work-life balance is better over here than in the UK. In reality- I don't think it is. 40 hour weeks are much more common here, nurses (such as one of my housemates) don't get as much holiday as they do in the UK to counter the stirling job they do day in, day out working horrific hours.Yet somehow, I find that, in my -admittedly- blinkered tunnel vision "OMG THIS PLACE IS SUPER-AMAZING, I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE" view of this country- people seem happier to be here. I think there is a serious element of pride in New Zealander's of their own country, that I haven't seen in the UK for a while. I'm not talking here of crazy BNP-ers or serious insular Euro-sceptics, but people who just love their country. It's pretty infectious. I think that's why I feel my quality of life is better here. It's because I'm a Kiwi-Keeno (check out my alliteration there!) 

I could be totally wrong here and I could get a barrage of people (or rather a slow trickle depending on who can be bothered reading this wonderfully confused insight to my mind) claiming that they feel exactly the way I feel about New Zealand right now. You could all be serious UK enthusiasts- and if you're not then maybe you should be. It is a pretty cool place. Right now I'm sampling some other pretty cool places and [still] loving it. 

Apologies for all the future sappy "I <3 NZ" posts.. but there's no place I'd rather be.

                              View from the deck on an increasingly rare sunny day..

Bustin' that stereotype

So since the last post, I have started to explore a *little* more of this country I find myself in and it has done nothing but make me fall a little more in love with it.

It has been a real mix of extremes, from wine tasting in Martinborough, to a slightly more crazier night out in Wellington (naming no names) to the ballet, to working.

Let me go back to the wine tasting, if anything to make you all a little jealous. We (a friend and I) took a roadtrip, with, you'll be pleased to hear, my friend doing the driving, after I told her of all my driving escapades with less than a year's experience. Took a little detour stopping off at Lake Wairarapa (still can't spell it and I spent half an hour looking at the place on a map trying to navigate towards it..) here it is:

It was a beautifully sunny day and there could not have been a better time to hire a bike - yep- I rode a bike, for the first time in years. Yes,literally years. I have to admit it was a pretty (actually,I lie- a REALLY) wobbly start, but as the day went on, and the consumption of alcohol went up, I was a pro by the end of it. I'll be taking on the Tour de France in next to no time at all. Bring it! The wine was fabulous, and had a different take on the wine vocabulary used by typical wine-o's, and found that saying "the bouquet of this pinot noir is particularly YUMMY" had the same impact. I'd even argue that it is better than saying the "bouquet is particularly floral, with a hint of bergamot" because I find the word YUM conveys exactly what it is with none of the smarmy stereotype.

The next day, with a rather fuzzy head, the weather was absolutely foul. In the typical New Zealand way that we all love to hate it could just be described as "grey".

In a continuation of the incredibly civilised-ness of my past few weeks, we headed to the ballet on Friday. I haven't been to the ballet for years, and I had forgotten how great it is. You can totally lose yourself in the world of pirouettes and tutu's for a few hours and come out of it feeling rather refreshed. In our case, the men in tights were also a bonus..

In short I am feeling terribly cultured at the moment and felt the need to share this once in a blue-moon occurance with you. Make the most of it. Then again I might surprise myself.

Windy Wellington lives up to it's name..

Apparently there was an earthquake last night. I say apparently because I, for the second time in my life have slept right through an earthquake. I am well known in my circle of friends for my ability to fall asleep mid conversation, and it seems I am increasingly competent at doing just that.

Okay so the earthquake was nearby and not exactly on my doorstep (or under my doorstep as the case may be..) but this combined with a conversation I had at work (yes, I have started to work, I am incapable of being a lazy travelling bum it seems) with some colleagues have truly made me realise that I am living in New Zealand, where experiencing an earthquake seems to be as normal as your cup of tea in the morning.

Yes, I know I travelled for 30 hours to get here, I know that New Zealand is an awfully long way away on a globe, and I know that the 13 hour time difference, and the fact Kiwi's are the first to see the sunrise in the morning, and to see the new year in would inevitably mean that I am a long, long way from home- but it was the realisation that earthquakes, and crazy-ass storms happen rather frequently here made it really hit home with me.

I'm in mother-chuffin' New Zealand. Oh my.

On the weekend, we had made some wonderful plans to go to the zoo and explore a bit more of the area- including a place called Zealandia, which makes me think of Jurassic Park for some reason. Actually, thinking about it- I would not be surprised to see a dinosaur going about his daily business here. However when we heard the storm warnings (and experienced a pretty hefty downpour outside Peter Jackson's cinema [and- yes I did just massively name drop- how could I not?! Best.cinema.ever.] on Friday night) that going to the zoo might not be such a good idea that weekend. We might have actually seen a flying pig.

Good job we didn't. Our house physically shook from all the wind- and we stayed resolutely inside except to venture out to buy emergency cider and ingredients for cake. It was this that made me realise that New Zealand is really quite a small island (or two islands for those know-it-alls out there) in the middle of nowhere. And it is this fact that makes me love it a little more. I find it amazing that a place like this, is literally (cue the "jah, I'M LITERALLY IN BURM-AH, ON MY GAP YAH  jokes.. ) in the middle of nowhere. I quite easily forget that on my day to day doings of working, drinking great cider and improving my baking skills. (Turns out I need to work on my decorating of carrot cakes. My iced carrots on the cake looked more like [delicious] genetically modified wonders).

I don't think I will ever get used to the fact that I'm in New Zealand. The novelty is yet to wear off and I doubt it ever will. Just like my icing skills will never improve..

So laid back, they're practically horizontal..loving life the Kiwi way.

So, 4 weeks ago today, I jumped on a plane to come to New Zealand. I realised this today and I am still in shock at how fast time has flown by. I will add a hideous cliche here, that time has flown by, and I have indeed been having so much fun. What shocks me is that 4 weeks = 1 month gone already of a mere12 month visa.

I have been incredibly lucky in that I have walked into a life that has, in effect, already been set up for me.Other people have had to do most the hard work. That's the beauty of it I guess, and it is only now that i realise that I would have been stupid to not even give this whole Kiwi thing a go. Anyway, I am here, having a go at it and thoroughly enjoying it. Already there have been some ups and downs, but I am fortunate enough that the ups have far outweighed the downs already, which takes a lot for a pessimist (yes, like me) to admit to.

The one thing I am quite enjoying but also admittedly struggling with a little is the attitude to life here. I find it so alien to the UK way that I know it'll take another month to adapt. Everything is *so* laid back here. Now, I am the first to admit this is definitely a good thing for me and my dubious blood pressure, but we all know I can be  a little incredibly highly strung at times and this will definitely be doing the world of good. Even things like setting up Bank Accounts is just so straight forward, and stress free here. I set one up without having to prove that I am who I say I am with about a gazillion forms of ID, utility bills and goodness knows what else, (probably a medical history and a detailed account of what you had for your dinner last night) but with one form of ID and in about 15 minutes. My IRD number was done through a simple form. The only thing with that is that the postman seems to like to take his time getting it to me, (probably too busy chilling out, and I have to say I don't blame him) but again, that is a non issue for the time being. In the UK, a bureaucratic hell would be breaking loose over it. I can even DRIVE on my UK license for a year no problem. And guys,don't worry, the likelihood that you will meet me on the roads in this year is fairly unlikely what with me being thousands of miles away. You can look relieved now.

I am literally thousands of miles away which still scares me, and I still havent got my head round the crazy time difference.As I write this, I'm in bed getting ready for a Wednesday, whereas you lot in the UK are just getting out of bed ready for Tuesday and what it will bring. Timezones are beyond my (rather limited) mental capacity.

So after the first 4 weeks of being away, do I have any regrets? Nope. None whatsoever. Perhaps one though, that I forgot my hammock for all this chilling out I'll be scheduling in  doing. (totally unscheduled).

Kiwi Lovin'

So I've been in NZ for a few days now and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and collect my somewhat sparse thoughts. That, and the fact I have a sprained ankle has meant that it is sort of an enforced sitting down and collecting of thoughts.

The flight over was loonnng and kinda boring, although free wifi in airports does break things up a little. I am now an expert in aeroplane food, and word to the wise, always avoid the chicken.

Anyway I arrived in Auckland at 5 in the morning and couldn't check in til one that afternoon, gutted. Anyway in a bid to beat the jet lag, I took a tour round the city, headed down to the harbour currently undergoing some amazing regeneration and also headed up the Sky Tower. Apart from nearly having a heart attack when I saw someone bungee off the top of the building by the window I was stood at, it was pretty fantastic and I can now add the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere to my 'BEEN THERE!' hit list. I did all the other standard touristy stuff and spent about 8 hours in the museum there. I won't bore you with all the things I did. I'll probably just make you jealous.

Anyway, cut to the chase I've had a change of plan and have come to Wellington earlier than expected and doing the stereotypical kiwi experience another time soon. Again, another absolutely fab city and dare I say I think I prefer it to Auckland, shocker! Plus the bestest is based here, which helps. The house is fantastic with some of the best views I've ever seen from a lounge.

NZ so far has left a great impression on me, and I love the community feel that the place has. Even in Auckland,which is a pretty hectic city, the people there are all so incredibly chirpy. I haven't come across one  grumpy person yet, not even the bus drivers. Yes, I am looking through rose tinted glasses, and I'm sure once reality hits- and I'm looking for jobs.. I may not feel the same but, for the moment it is lovely.

And on that lovely note, I'll love you and leave you.

The politics of Christmas

So, I like many others have started the countdown to Christmas. Every year I aim to be more organised, and every year I become less so. Demonstrated by the fact that this morning I simply had to eat 5 days worth of Advent chocolates as I'd forgotten to do so the past week. Starting the day with an Advent-sugar-high was pretty good though.

Now, I have long accepted that I will never be one of those people like my Mother who will be wonderfully organised and have everything bought and wrapped with the military type precision that Santa must employ to deliver presents to all the world's children on Christmas Eve by the time I open the first door on my advent calendar. (What do you mean he's not real?!) however I will always get things done, just in my own time and in my own way. Nor would I do what my uncle does and buy it all on Christmas Eve- that's just too much of a risky strategy for Captain Sensible to contemplate.

Christmas obviously is not about the presents (I mean, it makes up a LARGE part of the day, and yes I probably would be put out if Santa hadn't visited, but hey, don't lie, so would you be.) But it is about family and for the religious among us, obviously celebrating the birth of some guy called Jesus. However, for a day that isn't about presents, it is bloody stressful buying the damn things.

It's the politics of it all which really gets my goat. (And before I get labelled as a Scrooge or as some kind of Christmas hater, I'm really not, I love the whole festive season and I'm not gonna say I hate the season just to get some kind of reaction out of someone who's bored enough to read this.) I'm sure you will all know what I'm talking about here- it goes from the whole- "well Betty's second cousin once removed bought me a present last year, I mean it was a sodding pair of hideous socks but I can't not get her something this year in case she gets me something again, and if i'm buying for her then I can't not buy her sister Ethel something as they're spending it together this year"  to the incredibly awkward moment when you've just spent a fiver on a chocolate selection box for a friend, and they then rudely present you with a beautifully gift wrapped box with your favourite perfume inside. So. Awkward.

I'm not going to spend a fortune this year Christmas, as I made the unwise decision to move to New Zealand with next to no savings in the new year, and I've made the decision not to get so stressed about them either. The thing is even with the shitty presents you will inevitably get- from the sub-standard board games to the pair of tights, to the bath set that smells like old ladies, you still appreciate that there was some level of thought put into them.. For example, I know that the bar of soap I got last year was given to me because I do like to keep clean. (sense the sarcasm.)

Seriously though, I reckon, as we all do- that presents I buy for people are spot-on, but if that were true, then nobody would ever complain about the presents they got, and there would be absolutely no need for the dreaded Gift Receipt.. (praise be the Gift Receipt). So there must be some presents we have all bought that are some serious faux pars.

Which is probably why I still quite like the idea of Santa. He always got it spot on. Less stressful too that way, and a (admittedly, somewhat feeble) excuse to put off buying presents a little while longer.

three questions..

Today, whilst stuck on the M56, aka my second home these days (expect the new home cards through the post any day now notifying you of my new residence) with a colleague, he started spouting something or other about Psychology and how he'd be able to tell a lot about me by asking just three questions.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and decided that this traffic jam might just warrant indulging him in this conversation. (don't worry, he knows he most probably was talking like a crazy man. I blame the M56.)

He asked three questions, I can't remember what they were, but they were nothing special, like 'where did you go on your last holiday?' (Dubai, for those bored enough to want to know. And, it was great.)

Anyway, I answered and he in return analysed what I said to him in a fairly accurate way in that he mentioned a couple of things that made me think that how we act with others in everyday life and with other lovely people is quite revealing.

I think I generally hold my cards quite close to my chest, but with close people in my life I let them in probably a bit too far.But in the past 6 months, in the job I've held, I am amazed at how much someone will reveal to a relative stranger without, for the most part, realising it.

With a background in sales, now fundraising- which is the softer, more cuddly cousin of sales, I've been trained into submission to pick up the language people use, and the body language they give to you in order to alter your pitch, and I've learnt how to effectively steer the conversation away from Great Aunt Betty's recent trip on a cruise back to something a little more profitable. And sometimes,you just can't help but employ the same tactics whilst talking to your nearest and dearest. If you suddenly find yourself agreeing to take me on a shopping spree round Selfridges for no apparent reason, I give you permission to point the finger of blame at me.. (Of course I'd never do that. That's just too obvious.)

It made me think, first impressions of a person are more often than not pretty accurate. I am way too willing to judge a book by its cover, but for good reason, I'm [usually] right.

For example: Harry Potter books- GREAT covers, GREAT books. An introduction to the Complete History of the Single Market: MUNDANE cover, MUNDANE content. It's a scientifically tested (by yours truly). Fact.

An old boss of mine once said that they make a decision about whether they'd hire the interviewee within 5 minutes of the person walking into their office. I like to think that it was a good decision made when they hired me.

But it makes me wonder how many graduates have missed out on their dream job simply on the wrong first impression of a candidate by a potential employer? One button not done up, the wrong tie with a shirt, or one flimsy handshake and you could be waving goodbye to that golden opportunity. That is kinda depressing   when you think of the weeks of prep you put into that interview so that you try to make the 'right' impression isn't it? Just really emphasises the notion that every little helps. (Man, I hate Tesco for coining that cliche.)

Note to friends: watch out for those subliminal messages in forthcoming conversations. cough *selfridgesshoppingspree* cough..

Wish me luck?

Okay, so this morning, on one of my (many) days off I watched a great program by the clever and slightly creepy Derren Brown about the concept of luck, and whether it is something we can bring on ourselves through the taking of opportunities.

I have recently made the choice to hop on a plane in February to New Zealand and live there for a year or so. It's all happened fairly suddenly.. quite like the time I agreed to go to Ecuador for a few months in a vain attempt to try and do something good and worthwhile. I didn't actually achieve all that much when there though, except an unusually good knowledge of Amazonian plants and their properties, and how to handle a machette. I didn't even take the time to learn how to spell machette, hence the crap spelling.

This could actually turn out to be quite like that, but I hope I'll be able to spell better this time round.

I got the visa approved and the flights booked within a week. Nothing like jumping at an opportunity.

The thing is with opportunities, I really am starting to think that if we never took the opportunities presented to us, we could go round thinking we were the unluckiest person that were to ever walk this earth. Take this bloke on this Derren Brown show, he believed he was incredibly unlucky. As a result he didn't play a scratchcard where he would have won a television, but another time he took an opportunity, he won six grand. Some would say that's lucky, but I think he took a risk and the risk paid off thanks to grasping the opportunity rather than luck. It could have gone the other way and he'd have lost a grand (ouch). I suspect some jiggery-pokery went on behind the scenes.

I'm not even sure I believe in luck. For example, the fact that I mistakenly squirted Cif into my cup of tea earlier today could be said to be unlucky, when really, it was me just being an idiot and trying to move a cup of tea and a bottle of Cif one handed whilst cleaning the kitchen with the other hand. Pretty idiotic.On the other hand, it could be seen to be quite lucky that I noticed the thing abusing my cup of Yorkshire Tea before actually drinking it. So looking at it like that, the whole concept of luck is a pretty stupid one.

Mind you, the whole concept of me going to New Zealand could be a pretty stupid one, considering I thought my friend was having me on when she told me the Kiwi was a bird in NZ hence the name, Kiwi. I'm notoriously gullible and would believe you if you told me it was illegal to eat cheese. (Thanks for that, Abi.) It's not something I'm proud of and would like to say I'm working on this issue but that would be a blatent lie..

Anyway, seriously sidetracked there- the flights are paid for, the visa is approved and my parents will be pushing me onto the plane whether I like it or not. If anything so they have a good holiday lined up for next year. But if I can't do anything like this now, then when on earth will I do it? And what the chuff was holding me back?(As soon as my Mum asked this, I knew I should be booking my plane tickets) It'll end up being one of those things, like washing your car (unless you're my Dad with a serious car washing related OCD issue) that you  never seem to get round to (unless it's just me that never washes her car) but know you really should do, because it'll be great once you have. (I know washing your car doesn't even compare with an extended trip to NZ- but since the Cif incident I've had little caffeine today, so give me a break).

Fear not, my NZ ramble is over.. I best get round to washing my car now.

back to square one..

The real reason I started writing this blog about a year ago is that I was actually quite bored at work- and felt the need to start writing about life after graduating because I felt it perhaps wasn't all I had imagined it to be when I first started uni back in 2007 as a young whippersnapper and was probably quite frustrated at my situation.

So, imagine my continued frustration at being made redundant at the age of 22 less than a year after graduating, due to something totally out of my control and once more about to join the other graduates in the job centre. I still think I got lucky with landing the first job, and with the second even more so.

Okay okay- so I am lucky to have had two jobs in the last year when some graduates are struggling to find one job. The current job I'm in at the moment is a 6 month contract and ends just before Christmas.. It has been an amazing few months and I have learnt so much in this role and has given me so much experience and effectively pimped out my CV to the MAX. I'll be gutted to be leaving it.

To be honest with you- the year since graduating has been a little like a game of Snake and Ladders. One moment I felt like I'm making great headway up the career ladder- the next moment someone has thrown the dice and I'm knocked off the ladder, down the snake and back to square one.

It begs the question: WHAT DO YOU EMPLOYERS WANT FROM GRADUATES?!

I know so many graduates who are so deserving- taking unpaid internships, slogging away in voluntary roles to gain experience, biding their time, applying for countless jobs but going round in circles not getting anywhere any time soon- It almost becomes a farcical game of Risk (had to get the word farcical in here somewhere..) never mind Snakes and Ladders.

It isn't helped by the fact when looking into moving to a country crying out for more applicants to jobs they don't want you as you possess none of the necessary skills needed- even a country desperate to get people into jobs don't want your application. 'Your' here obviously is me. I blatantly should have listened to my step grandmother when she told me to become a plumber instead of laughing in her face before stating that I could never pull off the blue overall look. Blue overalls certainly seem quite fetching now (plus think of all the accessories  opportunities it would bring, bonus!)

So next steps- I have no idea. I'm starting to think a Post-It on my head and wandering round Manchester shouting give me a job may be just the thing. That or it'll get me carted of by the men in white coats- at least then I won't need to job hunt, ey?!

I'll quit with the moaning now and stop the procrastination from my Sunday afternoon job hunt, and perhaps go and buy some post it notes..

nothing much to say here..

Now, this has been bothering me for a while. I seem to have lost a little of my blogging 'get up and go' and I cannot, for the life of me, work out why- because I love it. I was reading (shocker, I know, I can read.) an article that stated blogging a form of self expression..

Now to me that is a bit of a fancy pants description really and someone making it sound something much more elaborate. When all it boils down to is that it's a bit of a diary. Or just really quite crap ramblings that noone finds *that* interesting.

This got me thinking, have I lost interest in it because I really don't have anything to 'express' about my'self' at all? Then I was like- hang on, no that's wrong, I've just started a new job, got a new 'do, and got some new specs. But that in the large scale of things isn't really much to write home about is it?

Now I am sure that 'celebrities' feel much the same about their lives and that their lives are nothing much to write home about, yet they find their phones tapped and their privacy intruded upon. Now, I am not getting into that whole 'they made the decision to live their life in the public so they must accept the consequences' debate cos I can't be bothered- it's like getting stuck in the one-way system in Leeds. (a Nightmare, for those who haven't experienced it.)

(It's inevitable that I would write about this issue really, and end the blogging drought- nothing like a bit of controversy to get the brain going..)

What about those who end up in the public eye through absolutely awful events that have affected them, of which they had no control over? When I heard the news about certain a newspaper listening into certain people's phonecalls I have to admit I wasn't surprised. And I think this is a shame that it didn't shock me. Cue my old woman rant- WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO? Or, why am I such a cynic?

But, what really strikes me is that *who* do these journalists think they really are to think they have the right to listen into what would be 'normal' people's phone calls in the vain attempt to get a good headline?

There is a line when it comes to privacy- and there is the occasional Facebook stalking session to see what people we don't actually know all that well had for their tea last night- and there is the crossing of the line with the blatent stamping into, what I like to think of, figuratively speaking, intruding somebody's front room of an evening and dancing round naked in front of them whilst singing Christmas carols in the middle of Summer.

IF these allegations are true, then shame on them for thinking that they have the right to do such a thing. The TV show Big Brother was an epic fail in the end for a reason- we're probably all as boring as one another when it comes to it. Boring is the wrong word here actually. Normal is the right one.. It doesn't matter if we're footballers, reality TV stars, or victims from tragic circumstance. Show everyone a little more respect and I reckon the world would be a better place.

That there would make a marvellous "miss world" speech. This post is marvellously confused and is a great representation of my confused custard-like state of mind on this whole issue. Because I'm not confused about it at all really, it is wrong full stop and you should never intrude on someone's precious privacy in such a crude, cruel and obvious way. No matter how many newspapers you think you'll sell.

time flies when you're having fun

Wowzers, it has been a wee while since I last posted. Truth is that I have had a manic few weeks. Well, not manic, but a fun filled busy bonanza few of weeks.. I literally have not had time to think, never mind shop.. Well, apart from that pair of absolutely fabulous bargain price KG's which are just marvellous, daahhhling.

What with multiple trips to Leeds, to Manchester and to Bangor (of all places), I am well and truly having a sip of my own medicine in wishing I had more stuff to do. I have a serious case of just desserts I think!

Needless to say, I am absolutely loving the new job, and although I am only just getting into the swing of things I am sure it is everything I had hoped it would be.

It was Father's Day last week and we celebrated Daddy "Monty" Davies' general awesome-ness with one of Mummy Davies' AMAZING beef roast dinners. It is quite literally the bees knees. We also found a whole bunch of photos of all of us from the Noughties whilst we were holiday-ing in France. There are some GREAT ones of our little brother when he resembled a little scrawny chav to be. (FYI, he's not a chav) Needless to say those beauts will be making an appearance at his 18th in a few years time..! Also some one in a million photos of me doing the 'bucket head' impression, and Abi as a Shearer-wannabe. We also watched some old-school home videos. Which was an eye opener, let me tell you. I realised, whilst watching it that I was, and still am, the typical big sister, bossy two shoes! I was an annoying child. Also incredibly weird. I would love to know what was going through my mind whilst chucking Flopsy (my rabbit teddy) halfway across the garden and generally abusing her. I'm amazed the parentals didn't have me admitted, and Flopsy put into intense therapy.

My brother had his year 11 prom last night, it is crazy how grown up he is now compared to those hilariously serial killer-esque photos he took of himself. (Poor child had to figure out how to entertain himself whilst his big sisters were sunning themselves on holiday. It was that or digging big holes on the beach) There he was in his tux, and his deep voice, no stubble in sight and looking, I must say, like a proper gent (*big sister gets all soppy and gay*).

The thing is, do we ever really stop to take in the moment and appreciate the things when they are actually happening? That is, before we half forget about them and they slip through our hands faster than one slips on ice in sky scraper heels? Whether it's with family or friends- we're all guilty of doing it. I took a moment on Friday whilst out for my bez's birthday to just stop and take a mental pic of Dhand dancing like a mad woman, Pyle dancing with *that* drunken look in her face having a wonderful time, and jamming away with my old 'flute buddy' Fi. I took that mental pic and it will be with me for a looonnng time!

Who needs fancy shmancy cameras when we use our brains and make sure we have a lasting memory of all those fun things we did an age ago? I think I need to stop for a breather every once a while and really appreciate what I have. And I'm not talking my ever growing wardrobe here.

"Liiife is liiike a box of chocolates.."

Now when I think of this quote I do generally laugh purely because I cannot say this phrase without actually trying to do an hilariously bad impression of Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump, which- I hasten to add did not make me cry when I watched it- neither did Bambi when I watched it for that matter. I just didn't see what the big fuss was about and could totally understand why he had shot the Mummy so he could have a yummy dinner. Like I said, I can be cold hearted bitch at times. Or just REALLY rational. Other times, I can be really very irrational.

Actually, that's a serious understatement. Hysterical springs to mind.

A few people have said they are looking forward to reading more positive blogs in the future- and to be honest I hadn't realised that I had been sounding so incredibly boring and having a serious case of "I hate my life" syndrome. For this, I apologise!

I am bouncing back (rather like Bambi... Before his Mother was shot..) with some absolutely marvellous news. No, I have not won the lottery, but feel like a million dollars. I passed my driving test! Oh yes indeed, I have been unleashed onto the roads. Watch out general public and sheep, here I come! I will add here it was my second time round- but you know what they say, first the worst, SECOND THE BEST, third the one with the hairy chest..

Now when I had been told I had passed my driving test, I screamed and actually hugged the assessor. He was quite in shock. To be frank, I was in shock that they had taken me on a totally roundabout-free test route. Roundabouts are not my friend. 'nuff said.. talk about luck!

I also, on the same day, got a job! YES! SCORE! BACK OF THE NET! I know, miracles do sometimes happen.. the job may not be ideal, as it is part time and on a fixed term contract, however, it is THE job I wildly dreamt about whilst previously being a stairlift-selling-machine. Hence why I am just so thrilled to have been offered this role. And utterly still in shock about recent events. 

Truth is, Hanks was so right wasn't he. Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get. You could be really very disappointed in managing to get the Turkish delight filled one every single chuffin' time the box was passed to you, (I speak from experience- trust me, so. much. disappointment.) you could pick out the disgusting coffee ones- or the vile "champagne" truffle which almost puts you off chocolate forever as it causes so much bitter emotional turmoil- or you could just get lucky and select the absolutely divine caramel and hazelnut filled chocolate which just makes you happy and all warm and fluffy on the inside. We all keep on picking and delving into the second layer before finishing the first layer- despite chocolate eating being a rollercoaster ride of emotions.

I still maintain my impression of Hanks in that film is second to none though. You guys just aren't on my "artistic" and "talented" level.

Viva Espana!

So, here I am, sat in my lovely stark, white box empty apartment on the last night before moving out tomorrow. And it wasn't until just now that I thought, crikey- I've been made redundant, I am one of those stats and I'm moving back to my parents. Now, I want to move back to my parents for a while. They'll be glad to know that I won't be staying FOREVER. (Or maybe I will. *evil laugh*) I think, and I am sure the rents know this, that moving back for a while will do me the world of good. To really get my head straight and focus on something decidedly non stairlift related. The past month has given me thinking space as it is and I'm already much clearer about what I wanna do.

Well. I know- kind of- vaguely what my realistic options are right now, I'm just trying to figure out how to achieve them. I take extreme comfort in the fact that those around me seem to have more confidence in my abilities than I do myself- take my Dad for example- he emails me regularly with jobs that he thinks I'd like- and I hope that he thinks I'm capable of doing- and I've taken it as a compliment that the jobs he has been emailing me are things that look rather challenging- or as I like to think about things like this- really get my teeth into. I used that phrase in an interview this week and the panel looked mildly bemused at my idea of my approach to a hard job- and my enthusiasm for said job. They looked at me like I was a deluded crazed scientist in fabulous heels.

Or the fact that my friends- you know who you are- and my rather fabulous Mum come to think of it seemed  totally unfazed by my serious worries about getting another job- to the point where I felt like shouting sometimes- DO YOU NOT READ THE PAPER? OR WATCH THE NEWS? THESE ARE BAD TIMES FOR UNEMPLOYED PEOPLE! Now I hasten to add I have not yet found another job- and have been putting off signing on for as long as possible. Yeah, yeah, I know it's 'free money'- but as soon as I sign on I know I will feel like a failure and to be quite frank- like a sack of good for nothing shit. Depressing thought. I know I'm all about keeping positive and optimistic recently- but there inevitably comes a point when I will think, what the flip will I ever achieve? Does ANYBODY read that application I sent off about 6 weeks ago?

Thing is, for an unemployed person, I am still incredibly busy- and I had the thought the other day- how did I manage to work and fit all this stuff in before the dreaded 'R' word?

I think maybe I'll just sack the lot, and move to Spain and live a totally idealistic life of eating Tapas and having Siestas and drinking far too much Sangria.

Anyone care to join?

Money matters

Now, I generally think money and friendships don't really go together- they're not a match made in heaven like Tomato and Basil... but more like pouring salt in your morning coffee instead of the sugar badly craved at an ungodly hour. But it is inevitable that at times in our life they will cross each others paths. You know the drill- one person helps a mate out of a sticky situation- cos that's what mates do isn't it really, and it's done on the basis that they'll give the money back when they can.  

I myself have borrowed money from a friend when things look a bit sticky and, similarly I have lent money to friends when they have needed it. This goes without saying, and generally I have never had any problems with this on both sides of the fence. But what happens when it all goes a little bit wrong? (You'll be glad to know I almost resisted the urge to say when it all goes a bit Pete Tong..)Say, a friend borrows money off another to pay their impending electricity bill, but then goes and blows a fair amount on that absolutely-must-have-dress-from-Topshop the next week before paying said friend back?

How on earth would you deal with that? Seriously? I have never been in that situation and doubt I ever will be. But for me certainly, I have serious issues with confrontation when it comes to my nearest and dearest. I avoid it at all costs. In the workplace I certainly have no issues in defending my own work, or indeed looking to others who perhaps need to buck their ideas up- I know how to deal with that no problem. That may sound like a cold hearted bitch approach but the truth is I have no serious emotional attachments to colleagues. Yes, I will work with them and have a great working relationship with them and socialise with them- but there's a barrier perhaps with colleagues that is hard to cross. 

When it comes to matters of family and friendships I become a shadow of myself, because the truth is, I value them way too much to lose them over something so petty as why they never gave me the twenty quid lent to them a gazillion years ago. It's the very thought of maybe risking that relationship that leaves me quaking in my boots, or rather, quaking in my Louboutins. Would it really be worth losing a friendship because of something so petty? I think not.

But we all have *those* friends and in fact, relatives, that will bring up every single thing lent to you, from the 20p to make up your bus fare, to the top you borrowed after you spilt red wine down yourself before a night out. I wouldn't be surprised if these people keep a log book of everything and tick things off in red marker pen upon return. It really makes me wonder whether they ever stop to think about the time you were there ready and waiting in the wings to happily lend them the DVD they so badly wanted to watch, but they never returned, or the times you were there at their doorstep with a bottle of wine (or in many cases, tequila. Let's not lie to ourselves about our alcohol consumption now.) and refused any contribution. 

Now I am happy to say that these people are really few and far between, and I have never really encountered any in my fabulous friendship group- but if any of (the few that do read this..) you reading this are one of those described above, just stop to think that you can never really put a value on friendship and it should never concern anything as petty as point scoring or penny pinching. 

Rant over. Official.

Life's full of surprises, it's how you deal with them that makes you who are. Apparently.

Okay, so I have been a little quiet on the whole blog scene in the past few weeks, truth is, I couldn't face writing one. I think it's quite an honest blog and I wasn't quite ready to tell the few (lovely) people that actually read this that I have been made redundant at the grand old age of 22.. nightmare. Think I have aged considerably in the past month, those lines on my face have definitely deepened.. time to break out the anti-ageing miracle worker I think.

Now, I am much more practical about recent events, and to be honest much more grounded about the whole situation. I'm the first to admit when I found out I was an absolute hysterical mess.. my parents, closest friends and my now ex employer will back me up on this. Recently, and especially since graduating, I have felt much more able to deal with bad situations, to keep a calm head whilst paddling furiously underneath. (The analogy of a swan springs to mind, but I think swans are vicious creatures so won't use that one here..) however when this news landed I was inconsolable. Actually, I was a different person. I felt my whole world had turned upside down, topsy turvy and backwards all at the same time. You wouldn't've wanted to be in my head that day, I could barely cope with it myself. Most of all I hated that I had given in to those, in my eyes, 'weak' emotions.

But as my dear colleague said, it is called being human. (I quickly packed away my superhero cloak as all hopes of being superhuman were dashed)

My Mother, the wise woman she is, and indeed those closest to me have all been great and full of pearls of wisdom since. This, I must keep telling myself IS an opportunity, not a catastrophe but a minor blip. I have come round to that way of thinking I must admit- and I realised myself that I never ever said when a young girl, mummy, when I grow up I wanna sell stairlifts because, let's face it, nobody ever does. Unless you're a stairlift fanatic, which, if you are- get a life would you?!

The job was far from perfect, but I was proud of what I had achieved during my time there, I guess I did feel I could give much more to the organisation but never really had the chance to. I have gained much experience from it- achieving a managerial role straight out of uni something I was incredibly proud of, and still am I guess.

More than anything, I'm pissed off at the life I won't have anymore and that I have had to give it up involuntarily. I'm fiercely independent and loved having my own flat and 'being a grown up'.

But I know in my heart I want to go home for a while to recharge those batteries and focus on doing something I love for a job, and enjoy the fresh countryside air and help around the house.

There really is no point to this post except it provides somewhere for me to air my thoughts- which thankfully, are now much more grounded and less hysterical.

Well, maybe one thing- if you hear of any jobs..