It's just like riding a bike!

So in the past few weeks, I have started having driving lessons again.. so, if you're ever around and about the Manchester area on the roads, you may be well advised to avoid all learner cars for the fear of coming across me.

Now, I may be doing myself a little injustice here. I had lessons when I was 17, and yes, I had a fair few and didn't seem to get anywhere with them. In hindsight it probably wasn't the best time for me personally to be having lessons as I had a fair bit going on in my life otherwise at that time to be thinking about- never mind learning how to change gears. My first driving instructor (yes, I have had more than one, worryingly) was an absolute arsehole. He would shout at me, and worst of all he had the most hideous body odour I have ever smelt in my life, probably not helped by the fact he wore the same woolly jumper originating in the mid 80's week in, week out. Mostly I think he took a particular disliking to me. So at one point I realised enough was enough and stopped lessons altogether. A while later I started lessons again- with an absolute gem of an instructor who was the complete opposite to the previous numpty, and smelt lovely. (Not that I ever purposefully smelt her..) But those came to an end when I went off on my travels, went to uni and pretended to convince myself that I really didn't NEED to drive. My Dad insisted otherwise- due to the fact he wanted someone to come pick him up from the pub after a few pints.

I've only just started again as I have realised that having that glorious pink card sitting in your purse is a credit to the ill fated CV and many employers require you to be able to drive. And it's actually not a total disaster. Believe me, this is a real surprise, considering I once went round a MINI roundabout the wrong way. Don't ask. (Fair to say that wasn't my proudest moment, and I still maintain it doesn't count as nobody was around to see this epic fail) Anyway- I have a good and patient instructor and I have realised that I remember a scary amount of driving practises considering I hadn't been behind a wheel in going on 5 years. (Bloody hell, I'm getting on a bit.)

Learning to drive has been, for me, up to now- a round of tests and tribulations. And I'm still not there. In some ways it's a bit like finding your perfect partner- you have to often take a wrong turn, go round the roundabout the wrong way to realise what you want in your dream husband/wife. Like I said, I'm still learning how to do a three point turn, so it's doubtful I'm quite there yet.

To take a quote from Sex and the City (yep, I am definitely a girl's girl. No shame.) "Relationships are like couture; if it doesn't fit perfectly, it's a disaster". I reckon that can be applied to driving too.

"Yeah, but, what if?" ... "Sod it."

Now I am the first person to admit that I am constantly wondering, "what if?" I know in a post a few weeks back I was talking about having no regrets. Having these 'what if?' thoughts are far from regrets, admittedly, but they do my head in. I'm constantly thinking of the whats, the ifs and the buts. (Typical girl, I hear you cry! To which I say- get over it). That's what makes me who I am I guess.

However they may not necessarily be a wholly bad thing- dear God, no- especially in a place of work, I find they can be particularly helpful. Asking the inevitable what if questions as part of a project review is almost definitely what encourages you to constructively criticise what has been achieved (or rather, in some cases of epic failure, what was definitely not achieved) and gives you a great POA (Plan of Action..I'm all about the abbreviations of late) for future projects. In this case, asking that damn question can be seen as a positive. Can you tell I'm one of those rather irritating people who strives to turn every negative into a positive yet?!

Yet in many, many other life situations it can be hazardous. How much has changed in my life in the past 18 months or so is actually a little disturbing. Inevitably, I start, in my haze of a daydream wondering; 'what if I had done that differently?'. You all are aware of these questions, because, you, my dear friend, are just as guilty as me in having these unproductive thoughts- so don't go getting up on your high pedal stool of judgement thinking you're different, because I severely doubt that you are.

These can go from, 'argh, what if I decided to go with Dominoes pizza last night instead of that dodgy Chinese takeaway around the corner?'.. What if is that you would probably be out in town with your mates having a great time instead of curled in bed with severe food poisoning as a punishment for trying to be 'exotic' and trying a different dish on the menu, different to your usual chicken sweet and sour... then there are the pretty major what ifs, such as.. 'What if I never went to uni? What if we never broke up? What if I had decided not to go to the interview?' These examples are slightly more destructive. If we keep on questioning our own actions, we'd be stuck on a bloody roundabout going round and round, getting nowhere but feeling instead increasingly sick and dizzy.. which would slightly damage your street cred.

One of my oldest best friends yesterday said to me to quit with the what ifs.. I'm gonna take her advice partially, and use the 'what if' with caution. As should you.. I reckon that although I don't want to have regrets thinking about what could have been, in some cases is healthy.

In others, it's just plain stupid. As long as we're happy and healthy, that's all that should count, right? So, take a step forward and think sod it the next time you even start to think of what could have been.

Otherwise you'll be stuck on that damn roundabout for life. Gutted.

Rain, rain go away..

Wow, today was wet wet wet.

I swear some bus drivers have a vendetta against the general public when it rains or just uses it as an excuse to show their general hatred and bitterness towards their own lives.

Now- today I did choose to wear THE most inappropriate footwear ever. Gold ballet pumps to be precise. The weather just wasn't THAT bad when I left the flat.. To add insult to injury, as I was about to cross the road- a bus driver went and soaked me with a tidal wave of muddy water from a lake of a puddle. Nice one knob. *cue jumping into the nearest taxi and cursing all bus drivers*

I had some friends up for the weekend that I haven't seen in a long while. It was a lovely weekend. I think we all get a tad worried when we arrange to see those we haven't been in touch with as much as we should have been- and worry that we will have changed into incredibly different people with different outlooks on life that means the friendship will never be the same. Thankfully this wasn't the case- we have known each other longer than we would like to admit and there is a reason we were friends back in the days of fluorescent pink eyeshadow and the days before Lady Gaga. Now it is clear we all change into different people as we grow up but one has to remember that the people you know, and indeed, yourself never really intrinsically change one hell of a lot. I will always wear the most inappropriate shoes in the most adverse weather conditions, and will always be drawn to pretty things in shops, as well as owning about twice the amount of shoes more than the amount that is actually considered normal.

I'm incredibly lucky in that I have a fantastic circle of friends round me, from every part of my life- school, sixth form, gap year, uni..it's part of the reason that my phone bill is perpetually high. Keeping in touch with those around us is the one thing that will always be worth the frightening moment when we get a notification from our network provider telling us that 'your bill is now ready to view online'. Another thing that will never change- my talkative nature. My Mum once told me I didn't start talking until I was three years old- and that the only words I could say were 'neenaw' (thank you Fireman Sam obsession) and 'Mummy' (my Dad probably wasn't best pleased about that one). Let's just say, it explains a lot. I'm clearly still making up for the time lost speaking when I was a toddler. Sorry everyone.

So my point is (See, I got to it eventually..) that the friends that are worth having are the ones that you could not see for donkeys years but still pick up where you left off. They are the ones that find the chatterbox side of you endearing, and will still love you even when you're soaked through from the sodding Magic Bus and it's sadistic driver, and giving you sympathy when you're upset about ruining the beautiful pair of Topshop gold ballet pumps even though they think you are an absolute tool for deciding to wear them because they go really very well with your outfit despite the rainforest style downpour outside.

"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")

Hungover to hell and back

I had an absolutely fantastic Saturday night. It was my one of my best friend's birthdays. So, in true 'the graduate' style, we made sure we saw the birthday come in with a hell of a lot of dancing and celebratory birthday drinks- and singing happy birthday a bit too loudly in a taxi. (Fair to say the taxi driver was regretting the decision to pick us up at tis point) And the inevitable rolling home at an incredibly dirty time of the morning. And then there is the hangover. And boy have I seen some incredible hangovers in the last 4 years.. Now the general consensus is that the days consigned to hangovers is that they are wasted days.

But are they really? 

I kind of take the view that although the pain we have all endured at some point in our lives- some more times than others- is, to be quite frank rubbish- it IS self inflicted therefore we should grin and bear it. Plus I kind of think that if the night has been a great one then it is worth it. (I would like to say right here that I do NOT endorse binge drinking..) However, I will admit that I have been there waking at 11 in the morning the next day and weakly stretching for the glass of water and the ibuprofen, feeling like utter shit and knowing full well that the painful head is made even worse by the fact the night was an epic fail. Thus proving that alcohol definitely does not equal a good night out..

But I still think we should enjoy these lazy days if we cannot move without the room spinning- watch that film you bought in HMV on sale for an amazing bargain price of three quid on a whim, and start that book you borrowed from your friend about 2 years ago.. Because in that sense they aren't wasted, they're just days purely for yourself. (Totally obvious I'm making excuses for my own hangovers here).

Either that or you could grow a pair, build a bridge and get over it, have a bacon butty and a large espresso (*thank the Gods of Nespresso*) and make the most of your Sunday afternoon in a different way to the aforementioned.

On that note, make mine a double.

Social Media. A good thing? Really now.

Now it is clear to all you readers that I am a social media addict. I try to convince myself that because I openly admit this fact, it's okay, because I recognise this fact. And that I'm in the same boat that all you guys are.

The thing is- this whole social media lark is fantastic. But it can actually be a tad self destructive. Take my previous post- I nearly had a nervous breakdown because I wouldn't be able to tweet/blog/post for a measly 24 hours! It is absolutely ridiculous that I even felt the need to write about this fact. What's worse is- I even had a dream that I was eating an almond cake in the flat on my own and suddenly developed a nut allergy. Fair to say, and I will admit that I woke up in a sweat because the last thing I remember is reaching out for my phone only to see the ill fated TIMER OF DEATH on my Blackberry. Now if this isn't crazy talk then I don't know what the hell is. Actually, it is a sign that I have fallen ill to SocialMediaitis. (Totally made up terminology, FYI).

I may be single (tequilaaaaa-some will know what the chuff I mean by this, others will be clueless- to which I say, get on Facebook to find out..) but actually, I think I am actually in a committed relationship with my phone. Which is kinda sad. I think I may have been more cut up about the recent loss of my phone than I was about a recent breakdown of a relationship. (Okay, that's a total lie, I'm not THAT much of a loser.)

Anyway, back to the point. It is self destructive. One innocent click and you are suddenly presented with your ex's goings on, and you suddenly realise that, darn, life goes on without me in their life. And that kinda hurts. But I like to blame the whole social media concept than actually blame myself for not deleting the twat (sorry for the language mum and dad.. *cringe*) off my friends list. Because I'm not quite there yet. (it took a year to delete the last ex off my Facebook for example.)Which is perhaps sadder than the fact I check Facebook, on average 6 (maybe more..but you'll never know the full extent of my addiction) times a day.

On that note, I'll leave it at that. Oh, and not before announce that the date has been set for my wedding to my phone. Get buying your hats girls!! I shall be known forever more as Rebecca Davies-Berry.

Over and out.

Crackberry. I hate you.

Now, today my world feels as though it has slightly fallen apart. Well- it hasn't actually fallen apart- all that has happened is that my phone has decided to give up on me.

This not only means I have lost contact with my friends- I can't do my usual facebook-ing, twitter-ing, blogging (well I can, but it's just not the same when you're doing it from a usual computer instead of a tiny handheld device. It takes away the novelty of such things.) But ICE (in case of emergency)- what the hell would I do?! Seriously now. It has made me realise how reliant I am on my phone. I feel rather cut off from the world and a little bit isolated. Now, I know that having the knowledge that Chris Moyles has been to the gym (Twitter), or that someone I barely know has just split up with their boyfriend (Facebook) or that knowing how many views my blog has had (blogspot) will have any great impact on my day, and that I will PROBABLY survive the next 24 hours until my replacement phone arrives, but it still sucks, and yes I am going to complain about it in the form of this post. Sorry. (Actually, I'm not sorry at all, just horrifically bitter..)

Now having a smart phone really is a wonderful thing in my job- as I work on my own in my lovely little shop I don't have all that much to do with the 'outside' of my shop 9 through til 5 on a daily basis. Yes, I have work emails and the phone calls and customers- but the social networking ability and the connect-ed-ness I have to the 'real' world actually is a miracle worker when it's raining (bloody Manchester) and is just a generally miserable day. A quick WhatsApp message, and BINGO! you're having an actual conversation and can lift your entire mood. Which is nice.

Now obviously, it isn't all sweet smelling like roses. Like right now, it is rubbish.But on the other hand I should be making the most of this time to do other things, like organise things and clean. I'm clearly not, instead am clinging to the only way I can feel connected to the outside world! Ridiculous. I know. (I WILL get to that organising and cleaning momentarily..) But it also means there is absolutely no way in hell you can ignore your bosses emails and phone calls, as they know as well as you do you will pick them up immediately. We have run out of excuses anymore as to why we missed that oh-so-incredibly-important deadline/meeting etc, because there is NOWHERE to hide. Gutted. It is the end of the days where we could be 'out of the office' in 'meetings' when in fact we were rushing to Selfridges to purchase the one and only black Mulberry Bayswater bag in the sale at a marvellous 75% discount (I wish...) because, I hate to break it to you, your emails and work life are constantly at your side. Inescapable. (Well for me, at the moment it is for the next 24 hours.. silver lining and all that jazz.)

In which case, we better start thinking of some better excuses, or actually get down and dirty to that filing you've been putting off for about 3 months.. (obviously, it is definitely, absolutely, NOT me I'm talking about here.)

Less of the "morbid"

Okay, so a friend has recently said my last CV-related blog post was "morbid". (You know who you are, ED). 

They pointed a few things out to me:

That a) I have a job which provides me with excellent experience, and my boss has put a hell of a lot of trust in my so called managerial abilities in starting up a new venture. For which I am eternally grateful for.

b) if all else fails I could always go back to AQA in the Summer, giving me a "great summer and loads more time to apply to more stuff"

c) That if this does happen, in future interviews; "when they ask you at an interview for an interesting fact you can say you got knocked out by an exam paper".

Now never fear I will explain these things in due course. The thing is, my wonderful friend- annoyingly, is actually right. Now, no matter how shoddy I think my CV is, I am lucky enough to have a job. According to my trusty Metro reading of a morning on the godforsaken 86 bus, 1 in 5 of all recent graduates are without a job. (*prays to the Gods of Metro for this stat*) I mean, c'mon, this is a rather RIDICULOUS state of affairs isn't it? We go to university to better our chances of getting a job and totally think that the money we pay year on year is a sound investment, and utterly worth racking up 20K (minimum) worth of debt- but right now, I'm not so sure that it is at all. I think we will see a new turn in people opting for on the job training. (Of course, this providing the funding is there..) My Dad is marvellous at what he does- fair enough, I am his (fabulous) daughter and will inevitably have the utmost respect for him anyway- but he has worked hard for where he is now, and is, admittedly, doing darn well- all without a university education. If that isn't an example of what hard work (and a fair bit of play and real ale drinking on the way) then I don't know what is. It begs the question- is it really worth it anymore??

On my part though- actually- I went to uni to prove a point- to prove to everyone that I am worth my salt and to show that I'm not just another girl with a great collection of handbags and shoes- but that's besides the point.

Secondly- I have options. Yes, going back to AQA (exams board) which provided me with a summer job for the past four years would, for me, be a huge step backwards- BUT- there are always ways of getting out of sticky situations, without digging yourself a perpetually deeper hole, until you've pretty much made to Australia. (In which case- who gives a damn, you'd be in Australia, SCORE!!)

Thirdly- I have a sense of humour. I always think the ability to laugh at yourself is a seriously underrated quality. Yes, I did get knocked out by a huge bundle of English Literature exam papers. If you took your English GCSE last year- there is a good chance you effectively hospitalised me. But the fact that I can take the piss out of myself and laugh about the really quite bad times is what makes you human. It is what makes you YOU, and what makes your closest friends and family love you (again, enough of the soppy bullshit I hear you cry- apologies). Plus, 80% of the time if you didn't laugh, you'd end up curled into a ball in bed crying into your Kleenex complaining about everything from the Government to the fact that you hate the smell of the new deodrant you thought you'd try on a whim.

So reflecting on my previous post- I didn't realise I was being so pessimistic- there is always something to smile about, or be proud of yourself for. It's just that quite often, it's trying to remember what you can smile about that is the problem...

My CV is better than yours...I wish.

So it's Sunday night, yet again. I hasten to add that I did indeed post one of thoses hideously standard (in fact sub-standard would be more inappropriate here) 'weekend has gone far too fast' Facebook statuses. I hang my head in shame. But the fact of the matter is that it's true. I live for the weekend these days, and it makes me mourn the university days when the weeks and weekends all just rolled into one long and lovely existence. The saying that uni days are the best days of your life really is true, and I think fits rather wonderfully with the ethos of this blog's title.

This got me thinking- why on earth didn't I make the most of this time? When I think of the time spent at uni 'studying' and watching endless re-runs of Come Dine With Me (which, for the record I adore, pure unadulterated, guilt ridden television gold) I could have (almost) taken over the world. Or at the very least used the time to enhance that ill-fated thing, the CV. Now, don't et me wrong- I did get my act together in my final year but I often think this is too little, too late. I did volunteer once a week at the Mines Advisory Group doing those menial tasks- one day I licked envelopes for about three hours. (I'm not even exaggerating.) This was not done for the 'greater good' (cue Edgar Wright enthusiasts and Hot Fuzz fanatics knowing exactly what I'm talking about here) but purely out of hedonisitc reasons- to make myself feel better and think I'm doing some good. Also for employers to think I'm the best thing since the invention of smartphones. (I heart my Crackberry.) But in reality, all I got from it was an incredibly dry tongue from all that envelope licking, and one measly line on my CV for employers to look at and think, 'hmpf' and move on to the next mind-numbing line of said CV.


One of my close friends is actually the best thing since the invention of Smartphones. He actively got involved about a gazillion volunteering activities- he not only volunteered where I did for a longer amount of time- but also became a driver for the university's many many do-good endeavours. He also became heavily involved in the STAR group (a refugee action group)doing stay overs and fundraisers and such like. And dare I even add that he managed to bag himself a first class honours degree. (Fair enough it is in Colouring in, aka Geography) Now if that doesn't make ourselves feel like lazy layabouts I don't know what will. (GET OFF YOUR BUM, YOU LAYABOUT- NOW.) So it is fair to say that his CV could rival, well, I don't know whose CV, but some really experienced dude.


Now fair enough, we all thought he was crazy. We all do think he is crazy and thought he had too much time on his hands. When in fact he actually made use of his time giving something back. My idea of giving something back nowadays is paying my taxes, and buying the Big Issue.


Then again- I've just realised, I DO do some good. I only work three days a week so spend the other two working at a charity, Business in the Community. They are fab. (shameless self promotion here, admittedly. Google them- do ittttt) But, even then I'm doing it for selfish reasons- CSR is something I am deeply passionate about and want to revolve my career around this wonderful concept. So that doesn't really count does it?? (dammit.)


Ask yourself this- when you are moaning about not getting a job and think you've got loads of experience- look at your CV from a totally outside perspective and really see what makes YOU stand out from the crowd.


Because, mine sure as hell doesn't. Ideas on a postcard much appreciated.

The graduate: Older but never wiser.

Go on, click, just one click, you know you want to...!
The graduate: Older but never wiser.: "So, on Sunday, it is my little sister's birthday. She said to me she feels old, but, boy, does it make me feel old..Man, imagine how old it ..."

Older but never wiser.

So, on Sunday, it is my little sister's birthday. She said to me she feels old, but, boy, does it make me feel old..Man, imagine how old it could make my parents feel! My sister means the world to me- we have had our ups and downs, like any sisters do, but we have grown up together and are strong as a result of that and I feel safe in saying she feels the same. *cue the END of the soppy crap* (don't worry this sort of stuff normally makes me vom..) it's the same with my little brother. Fair enough, he is fifteen and thinks he's all that. But we will never let him forget that he IS the youngest.

Anyway, I digress. The point of this post is that I doubt we ever learn or mature, no matter how many more candles get added to the birthday cake each year. It's starting to get to the point where I think I may refuse birthday candles on my cake as it just visually demonstrates how I'm not getting any younger and not even a tiny bit wiser..! Then again, I am still young, just graduated and got the world at my feet, right? I just need to keep telling myself that (whilst totally avoiding looking at how little of the cake I can see on my birthday because it's becoming immersed in candle wax).

Thing is, no matter how many candles we have on our cake, I refuse to believe the old cliche of older and wiser. After all, we are only human. We will always make mistakes at the age of 8, 18 and and reckon, even at the ripe age of 80. From making mud pies in the garden with your Mother's best saucepans (age 8), to wishing you never sent that text whilst in a drunken stupour at 3 in the morning (age 18), to thinking that maybe apple and onion crumble wasn't quite a Nigella standard recipe (age 80).

Plus then again, thinking that we never get wiser is perhaps a little harsh on ourselves. I think we probably do mature, in fact we DO mature. But maturity doesn't equal wisdom. I can accept that and accept that we will never be perfect and so I can quit putting so much pressure on myself to be 'little miss perfect'. Isn't that nice.(Plus my favourite character was always little miss sunshine. Perfect.)

simple things in life.

Why is it that no matter how many shoes and bags and beautifully extravagant things you buy in a mad consumersitic style they never cease to make you feel as good as it does when you pop over to see your family and that first hug from your parents? Or watching your mother make a lemon meringue pie and trying to get the sugar syrup at just the right temperature in the attempt to make a meringue that would rival Nigel Slater's?

Don't get me wrong- I <3 the amazingly beautiful things in life- take one look at my wardrobe and ever growing shoe collection and you will soon see, and they can bring an added sparkle to the most gloomy and depressing days in Manchester (anyone who has lived in Manchester will totally empathsise with this, WHY DOES IT RAIN SO GODDAMN MUCH?!) This is the excuse I tell myself before handing over my plastic at the till whilst absolutely and resolutely avoiding looking at the total cost of my Topshop addiction, but do you not think there's something missing from the feeling you get when you get home and parade around in those sky scraper - ankle breaking Kurt Geigers?

I think there is- however- there is NO WAY in hell that I would ever not go shopping after a truly horrific break up, or make sudden last minute New Year's resolutions to get my nails done once a month (HELLO there Jessica Manicures!) after said break up, as to coin a phrase from a supermarket I actually detest, 'every little helps'. But, spending time with the ones who will be there with you, through thick and thin, through disastrous relationships, bad haircuts and hideous fashion mistakes (I'm thinking the noughties look is a prime example- wearing 'floor sweeper' jeans as my Dad named them probably wasn't the best style choice I've ever made- especially when it rained.)

You can probably tell that I just spent the weekend with these people in my life. Everyone from my parents, to my great Aunt Audrey to my Uncle Nick (who gets through a bottle of red quicker than you can say Cabernet Sauvignon). I am incredibly lucky to have such a lovely family, who gets on so well. Yes, we have our ups and or downs and we may go for longer than we care to admit without seeing one another, but that small thing of having a drink with these people always does the world of good. Its the small things, the camerarderie between family members that makes you smile wider than you had done all week.(For example- my sister proving she could fit more than three scotch egs in her mouth all at once to win a bet with my uncle, classy bird.)

These are the people that will never tell you you are 'too nice' or pick at how one can never seem to make a decision, but they are the ones that will take you as you are and love you through thick and thin- and in my case- through the 'floor sweeping' jeans look.. Can a pair of shoes do that? Doubtful. But they do make you look and feel damn fine, which is half the battle I reckon. (And that gives me the excuse for guilt free shopping, for at least a fortnight before having to rack my brain for another to excuse the fact I've just blown my week's food budget on yet another pair of shoes.)

Is there anything such as privacy any more? Doubtful, very doubtful.

Now, this morning my housemate said something to me that got me thinking. I will say at this point before I delve into this matter that I'm no expert and am simply just thinking away.. there was a story making headline news about a footballer having to apologise about posting a picture on Twitter of a referee wearing Man United's (I think) strip. Fair enough that Twitter is a public site and as a well known figure, they should have to take some reasoning when publishing posts to thousands of people who follow said person.

Now I feel this is a little ridiculous. I could bring in the whole freedom of speech argument and hammer that until the cows come home. I will mention it but I won't go on and on about it.. but seriously now, who would complain about a chuffing picture that really has no relevant effect on how the world goes round on a daily basis, or has any great impact on our lives? If people have complained about it and are reading this, then do yourself a favour and get. a. life. Please. Cheers.

Going on from this, it could be that this guy thought it would be a bit of a joke and accurately showcase his feelings towards whatever it was he was getting all het up about. Fair enough right? I think so. But! no matter how private you can make something people can ALWAYS have access to the info you put out there. I am always mindful of what I post on here- i'll never mention where I work or what I do, names of people or where I live. That's common sense, as this is a public site- and god knows who will be looking at it. Yes, I decided to put where I am based, and a picture, but I do that as I know that I am happy for people to know the bare minimum about me and nothing more. Besides. I like that picture!

But do we ever think about what we put on our Facebook profile? I know I forget constantly that I have a number of friends on there that I havent spoken to in going on 5 years and I doubt I'll ever feel the need to talk to them ever again, yet they are my virtual 'friends'. Going on this they are virtual strangers, yet they can get access to my employer, phone number, check out my new hair cut and get the goss of my incredibly boring life. (And I KNOW that is my own doing- I put them up there after all..for the same reasons I have a LinkedIn profile.. networking..) Facebook stalking has become widely accepted as the norm, but hasn't it made us all into the socially un-acceptable peeping toms?! I'm as guilty as the next person when it comes to this kind of thing- stalking ex boyfriends, ex best friends, family, and that girl you always hated but yet have a strange desire to know what the hell she is doing these days, then there's the looking of people's ugly babies. (a whole different kettle of fish. And harsh, I know. But nobody will ever know, right?! And don't act like you've never done it!)

I think its clear to say it's not the twitching of curtains and nosey neighbours we need to be aware of, but its our virtual friends and 'tweeps'...

I feel it in my fingers.. I feel it in my toes..

Today I got this sudden feeling, that I am on the cusp of something big. Like monumental, Empire State Building big. Problem is, I have no idea what this something is. Nor, frankly, I have got a cats chance in hell of knowing what this is in the next few weeks.

Then this got me thinking; this 'feeling', for it to actally materialise it is going to take some effort on my part to bring it about. Going back to my post yesterday, trips, job hunting, is all it takes for this to actually happen. Then again all these require effort, and why bother if you happen to be sitting rather comfortably on your sofa with a glass of delicious red wine? 

The answer is this: to be actually happy and satisfied with everything in your life and the direction it is taking.
 Whilst many people never actually get this, I know I want it. It comes to the point that I know that what I want to be doing will never pay me the big bucks- but surely this doesn't matter when the satisfaction gained from doing said job will give me much more joy than seeing many, many 0's on your paycheck every month? This may mean that I will have to re-think the second mulberry bag purchase this year, or in fact, ever.. I'm not sure this is a sacrifice I'm willing to take though.. Then again, I will be just falling into that same trap that countless, cubicle stricken employees have fallen into before me.

Like I said before, big decisions are to be made this next year. Question is, am I up to them? Stay tuned.

onwards and upwards in 2011- better to say that than new year, new start..

Now, I hate that saying of, new year, new start, I had to find a better way to say something along the same lines, and indeed something better suited to my thinking at this time of year.

I didn't have the greatest of starts to this year, it's fair to say- but it has made me find my new years resolution.. I usually stay well clear of such things however this one is called for, and should be easy enough to maintain. It's not one of those 'I WILL lose weight resolutions' because I personally think they never work- sometimes you are just setting yourself up for failure. I however, just love carbs too much, and certainly commit the ill fated word 'carbicide' daily. Anyway, it is to say, enough of the bullshit. To get out there and do it, to just say fuck it and go with what I want. Hence, the trip to Dubai is on the cards, possibility of Sweden, mini breaks with wonderful friends. Also considering the future and my career. It's fair to say I will have a lot of thinking to do in the next six months and I have no idea where that thinking may take me at all, all I do know, is that to maintain my new years resolution, and to avoid the inevitable disappointment that goes hand in hand with making such (and often, I think farcical... think me, perhaps vowing to never touch a french baguette in the year 2011) resolutions, I ought to keep it up.

Someone dear to me once said, 'I never regret anything, but this thing I do regret'. I know that this person will have thought this twice in, say, the past month. Slightly heart wrenching I have to say on the second time, however I hope I never have to say that to myself or indeed anyone I hold close.

So in fact, I guess that makes two new years resolutions... enough of the bullshit, and to never say 'I regret that'.

I know they're kinda serious, but hey! give me a break I'm in a pensive mood.. But maybe I'll add a third to the list (When in Rome..) that being, to purchase my second Mulberry handbag..