We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves | Spoiler-y Review

I’m going to stick a really big disclaimer on this post and that is, if you’re planning to read this book in the future or even just think it might be something that’ll interest you, do not settle in. I can tell you from the outset, spoiler-free, that this book is so unique and, I’d say, best enjoyed if you go in completely blind as I did.

I really, really enjoyed this book. It has a hell of a lot of character and I got out of it exactly what I was expecting (and more!) – a powerful novel focused on the relationship between siblings in a dysfunctional family. Because the way I usually review books is tired and without much direction, I’m going to be snagging some of the discussion qs from the back of the book, because I’ve found a few that pick out my favourite aspects of this read.

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Before we get stuck in, I suppose I’d better summarise the story briefly. We meet Rosemary, an introverted student, as she unexpectedly becomes part of a scuffle in the college canteen. It becomes apparent, fairly early on, that things haven’t always been this way – now choosing to stay silent, Rosemary was once a lively, brash, chatterbox child. She hasn’t been the same since the disappearance of her crazy twin sister Fern. Not only that, but it’s been ten years since her brother Lowell took off, sending only unsigned postcards in his wake.

So. This book. This book this book this book!

“It’s not until page 77 that we discover Fern is a chimpanzee. Rosemary’s keen to control the way the reader is introduced to certain ideas, in this case so she can establish Fern as her sister and not an animal. Did that work for you?”

For me, this was my favourite aspect of my whole reading experience. I had absolutely no idea that Fern was anything but a human twin until this point. I was so shocked! I was thoroughly controlled. If Fern had been introdued as a chimpanzee from the offset, I’m sure this would create some sort of emotional barrier between the reader and the sisters. As it is, in Rosemary’s words it is evident that their relationship runs much deeper than family pet and child. Following Fern’s departure, this is made all the more clear when Rosemary says it was easier for her brother and parents to adjust as they had a life before Fern, whereas Rosemary knew no different to the bond she shared with her. (such a bad paraphrase if I can find the quote from the book I’ll add it agh)

“Does the ending mean Rosemary has atoned for her earlier sins? Does she need to?”

The tone of the ending was absolutely perfect. The style in which the whole novel is delivered – piece by piece, non-chronologically – reflects her family’s imperfect nature. By no means is Rosemary ‘in the clear’, so to speak, and throughout the novel very few loose ends are tied and moments of clarity reached. Where Rosemary ends her story, her brother Lowell is still on the run, and there’s still deep-rooted, unsolved resentment between the human children and their parents. The ending scene is placed as a moment of calm amongst the chaos. We see Rosemary and Fern’s reunion after 22 years as a simple, natural exchange, and yet it’s such a significant moment in their relationship that I did tear up on the train reading it (yes, really.) Atonement does not seem necessary. The Cookes have a long way to go, but the love between Fern and Rosemary is unconditional.

The non-chronological narrative Rosemary uses in telling her story deserves a nod of its own, I think. Many features of this story – Fern being a chimpanzee, the parents using their children for a psychological experiment, even Rosemary’s tendancy to overshare as a child – inevitably would rouse certain judgements in the reader. By telling the story in such a roundabout way, we are able to empathize more closely with Rosemary by learning more about her as a person, thus understanding her on a personal level. Let’s face it, if you knew somebody who’d been raised to believe a chimpanzee was her sister and nothing else about her, you’d instantly be thinking that she’s a bit cookoo.

As Rosemary says, in every ‘human being’, the ‘being’ is much more important than the ‘human’.

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

Newcastle trippin’ | 6th-8th March 2016

September 2016 will mark the four-year anniversary of the beginning of my promise-making to my friend Kate, along the lines of ‘I will *definitely* come and visit you in Newcastle as soon as I can!’ when we moved away to uni. With this in mind, I finally got myself up to the blustery North to see the city for myself, one £83 return train ticket later.

On the better side of a five-hour train journey (and one confused, clompy walk from Birmingham Snow Hill to Grand Central to catch my connection because, not only had I never done the walk before, but I was also hauling a suitcase along cobbled pavements and had my nicest heeled brogues on to boot. So, clomp clomp), another of my nearest and dearest Anna met me from the station and took us to an independant bakery, The Great British Cupcakery, giving me a flying tour of the city centre on the way – visit to the viewing point in the Baltic art gallery included. We had the most *incredible* milkshakes and a lovely big catch up.

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These were only £5 – I feel like *I* robbed *them*, but whatever.

We made our way onto the Metro and into Jesmond later on, where Anna dropped me at Kate’s to head off and live the busy life of a medic (and cook some lemon salmon. A surprisingly good combo, if the rumours are to be believed).

I’m going to spare you the minute-by-minute details of the whole two days, but instead here are the things I learned during my visit.

1. Cobbling together any mixture of vegetables, meat and cheese with risotto rice and cream makes for a great meal.
2. Some sort of record of fisheries began in 1866. (Kate took me to her lecture I’ve gone a bit sketchy on all the other details of that fact)
3. Newcastle uni students, on the whole, are both v good looking and v well dressed.
4. In Newcastle, it makes perfect logical sense to charge £4.50 for a cider black (!!!!), but £9 for six shots of tequila (?!!?!?!). I’m deadly serious.
5. Just because you *can* make a martini with the contents of a sherbert Dip Dab doesn’t mean you should.
6. A hungover Tuesday morning is best spent with coffee on the beach, watching wet dogs play fetch and poo in the sea.

and finally, arguably the most important lesson…

7. it is worth spending the money to travel to a new place, see good friends and feel a little bit lighter.

…that was so corny. I can only apologise.

I had a lot of fun! Even if I upped and left my mum on Mothering Sunday to get there. Soz, Mum.

Until tomorrow (who are we kidding??),

Emma x

Little Mood Lifters

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Thanks to my friend Bee for creating this horrific but perfectly appropriate image to sum up how I’m feeling. 

I am not afraid to admit that, at nearly 22 years old, I am slowly and painfully wading through my quarter life crisis. Fresh out of uni, I’m working a part time job (which I do enjoy, don’t get me wrong) to get some savings behind me in order to move away from home and become an Adult with a Career. It’s a period of my life that I’ll always remember bittersweetly: being home has given me the opportunity to ask myself the plainly cruel questions of: will I ever fall in love? Will I have a successful, exciting career? What about money? Will my friends still be around forever? What if I move away and make no new friends and can’t find a job and run out of money and everything is shit and what if –

Cue the low moods, biting comments and 18 cups of coffee I stress-drink a day (not really. But I feel like I could, sometimes.)

As I’m putting the majority of my earnings in savings at the moment and I work 3-4 days a week, usually including weekends, I don’t really have the scope to Get Out and Do Things, that all the priviledged western world 20-somethings are touted as being free and completely able to do. However, that doesn’t stop me having some little, closer to home solutions to curing a low mood – and no, this list will *not* include the usual tripe, such as ‘join a gym!’ ‘cut out sugar!’ ‘go to sleep before 10pm each night!’ I’m optimistic, not crazy.

So. Here are my five Little Mood Lifters, tried and tested by yours truly:

1. Revisit the things you enjoyed when you were happier. From about the ages of 12/15, I was in the depths of a vaguely emo/scene phase. My fashion sense at the time could’ve been described as ’14 year old tries and fails miserably to become Vince Noir’, and my favourite bands were My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. Despite all being things that got me and my friends teased relentlessly at school, I love the feeling of putting on one of their older albums and still being able to sing along to every word. It’s a bit like a comfort food.

2. Play Animal Crossing. Okay, bit of a dud if you don’t own Animal Crossing or just aren’t into games in general. When I’m feeling stressed, I love to check in with my townspeople and be soothed by AC’s lovely, delicate soundtrack. It’s nice to immerse myself in something that is so removed from my own situation so easily.

3. Clean! Sometimes the room I’m sat in can be enough to make me feel antsy. I’m not saying get the duster and polish out and go to town, but if there’s crap on your coffee table, throw away any rubbish and neatly pile the rest. It does help.

4. Leave the room. While I was revising for my finals at uni, the biggest piece of advice I could find on the Internet was to not revise in your bedroom. By using all your brainpower in your bedroom, you’re subconsciously creating this association that your bedroom = study study study oh GOD can you not cram any more in? Same goes for general stress. I spend a lot of time in my family home. If I spend enough time feeling stressed or sad in my lounge, I just pick up whatever I’m doing and move to the kitchen. (I’m writing this post from my kitchen table.)

5. Plan. I can’t literally pack up everything and leave, willy-nilly, for the aforementioned reasons. It would be nice to round up a group of friends and say ‘see ya later England we’re off to the Maldives!’ and then just go. But, as everyone with a head screwed on will agree with me, that’s just plain unrealistic. However, that doesn’t stop me looking into places I’d like to go in the future, jobs I may think about applying for and having a browse of the property market to see what apartments are on offer to give me some ideas for the future. Some may see it as a glaring reminder of all the things they *don’t* have, but for me it gives me something to aim towards and feel excited about when my current situation doesn’t quite offer me complete content.

So those are my little mood lifters, without a quinoa salad in sight!

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

(For the record I do actually enjoy quinoa and regularly go to the gym, and that’s a great feeling of its own! But it’s not an instant, everyday fix. Today I’ve eaten microwave chips and watched the second Harry Potter film in my dressing gown. It’s swings and roundabouts.)

#Pokemon20

Yes, I know Pokemon 20 was actually on Saturday, but I was having a really shitty day on Saturday and spent upwards of eight hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. I wish I was kidding. Happy Pokemon 20 to me.

For those not in the know, Saturday (February 27th 2016) marked the 20th anniversary of the release of Pokémon Red and Blue – the first generation of Pokémon game for the original Gameboy – in Japan. Once Pokémon crossed international waters a year later, it’s safe to say the franchise blew up. As the developers at Game Freak released new editions of the handheld game (moving between Gameboy, Nintendo 3DS and all the models inbetween), fans have been treated to corresponding series of animé, trading card games, toys and movies. Despite buying into the whole lot – thanks Mum and Dad – it’s undoubtedly the games that captured my imagination the most, and still do to this day.

On Saturday I spent a while reading through the comments on Pokémon’s official Facebook page, getting stuck right into the nostalgia that came flowing from users around the world sharing their stories. So, at the risk of sounding trite and predictable, here’s my own to add to the pile.

$_35My first Pokémon game was Pokémon Gold. I received it on my 7th birthday, along with the Special Pikachu Edition of the Gameboy Color – something I was secretly chuffed about, because I’d been so jealous of my brother Jack’s see-through purple Gameboy Color and Pokémon Yellow he’d been given for his 8th birthday the Christmas before. Taking pretty much everything my big brother said and did as gospel as most 7 year old baby sisters do, I was so excited to have an adventure of my own to go on. I can even tell you that Totodile was my first starter!totodile

I would go on to ask for Red, Blue, Silver, Sapphire and Pearl over the years, receive them all as Christmas and birthday gifts, but still never see a single gen to completion. Jack, however, completed every game he owned (Yellow, Crystal, Ruby. There are two kinds of child – those with attention spans, and those hopelessly without.) I’ve since beaten the Elite Four once, actually, with Pokémon Y, and I came damn close in a copy of LeafGreen that I’m still not sure how I acquired. Experiencing the Champion’s procession and seeing the credits roll for the first time was definitely a full-circle, embarrassingly emotional moment for me, even though I was 21 okay yes ssh.

My dad bought us the cheat books for Generation 1 (red/blue/yellow) and 2 (gold/silver/crystal) that you could pick up in Game, which told you exactly how to puzzle your way through tricky mazes, find which region the Pokémon you needed to complete your collection was hiding in and extra little tips. I’m not exaggerating when I say I spent *hours* perusing these. I read our Gen 2 edition so much the cover fell off – but as a result had every extra Berry, Pokémon Egg and Trainer phone number going.

Seeing as I’ve grown up with Pokémon, I finally took the plunge and re-bought into the Nintendo family with my 2DS (third-hand, mind you) last summer, because I was just too curious to see what X&Y could offer. While I bought Y, I convinced Polly to buy X and we sort of played alongside each other, fangirling over the incredible graphics, soundtrack and new features that have brought the franchise into a more modern setting without losing all the authenticity and the charm of those first games back in ’96.

So thank you, Pokémon, for everything you gave my tiny imagination to explore and enjoy. It’s been lovely and I’ll treasure the memories forever.

Until tomorrow (lol maybe),

Emma x

On Independance

Something I’ve been wanting to write about for a while. Bit of a funny topic, but Lentmas would just be boring if I didn’t write about funny topics. Also I wrote this while watching the Brits, so if it’s a bit disjointed and blah blah blah blame my short attention span.

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I’ve always been a fiercely independant person. Growing up, I never had a best friend, singular – according to my Mum, the closest I ever got to a best friend in primary school was with a girl who had a different best friend of her own. I’ve always been what you’d call a ‘floater’ (hold all your poo jokes, please) in social situations: I hate the idea of a clique and will always make the effort to befriend as many people as I can. I hate the feeling of being tied down to a select group of people when there’s so many different personalities to get to know! As a result, I’m sure I come across to some as two-faced or superficial. Honestly, I just get a little bit claustrophobic in my relationships sometimes, I guess. There’ll be a psychologist somewhere who would *love* to pick my brains, hearing that. I love all the friends I surround myself with and everything they’ve done and continue to do for me, but that goes without saying.

I’ve also never had a real, serious relationship. Hand-holding in Year 8 doesn’t count, funnily enough. Seeing the vast majority of my friends from school and college grow up and find themselves find their person, if you know what I mean, has been weird for me. All along I’ve just assumed things will fall into place and that I shouldn’t be getting antsy, but it’s hard not to sometimes! I’m sure if you’re in the same boat as me you’ll know what I’m on about.

At every opportunity I’m looking to prove myself – to love interests, friends old and new, lecturers and employers – and I’m not sure whether this attitude precedes my independance or is preceded by it. A bit like the classic ‘what came first, the chicken or the egg?’ question. (I know it’s the egg, it’s got to be the egg, but whether the egg is my independance or my disposition is still up for debate).

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Having been this way for 21 years, nearly 22, I do secretly worry sometimes that I’m going to find great difficulty in changing. I’ve gone through so much in my short little life by myself (by which I mean, without a ‘person’). I’ve managed 12 GCSEs, 3 A Levels, 3 jobs and a degree. I’ve been through fallouts, losing my Dad and dealing with my Mum’s troubles without ‘a person’ – and I’ve done it all myself. I don’t know how to share ‘me’. I don’t know how to give up personal space. I can’t text back for shit, and I sure as hell don’t have the money to be buying a significant other £300 worth of presents every birthday and Christmas. How do you all do it?

When finalising the arrangements for my Dad’s funeral, I remember excitedly telling my Mum that I was so happy and grateful to have people there who were there just for me, for once, and that really struck a chord with her. It’s lonely being me sometimes. That being said, though, while I envy people who have that closeness, and I’m sure it ‘feels like warm’ to be that way with someone (romantically or not), I’ve become so used to my default ‘cope’ setting that I’m not sure I wouldn’t find it smothering.

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Not really sure what my point is with this one. Just know if you’re in the same weird independance limbo, you’re not alone and it’s not weird. I don’t think.

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

Londoning! The Book Of Mormon! 6 HOURS OF TRAIN TRAVEL IN ONE DAY!

Oh my God, oh my God. I’ve broken Lentmas. The SHAME! The shame. In my defense, I took up an 8 hour shift at work on Sunday and had a roast dinner waiting for me at home, then I was so knackered I treated myself to an early night.

You know why I was so tired though? I went to London on a spontaneous day out!

Mum and I were sat at home on Friday night wondering what to do with our weekend. It’s so rare that I have a Saturday and a Sunday off, so we wanted to make the most of it! I was perusing WhatsOnStage just for a bit of fun, and found a pair of tickets for The Book Of Mormon for £150. Considering in New York Anna and I met a man who’d scored two tickets for The Book Of Mormon on Broadway for $500, I was so shocked to find these so cheap! So in a moment of madness we booked them.

Where we live in Worcestershire is miles away (not to mention a 3-hour train journey) from the hustle and bustle of London. We got in at about 11:50, just in time to grab some lunch before we could pick up our tickets at 2. Off the back of a recommendation from one of Mum’s friends, we headed to Covent Garden in pursuit of the Brown’s there. We had a Brown’s in Reading, but I never made it there in my three years as a student. Start as you mean to go on, apparently, because we didn’t find it on Saturday either!

Instead, we found a lovely pub below the market called Punch & Judy. I had an Aspall’s to drink and chicken & chorizo pie with chips and peas. Unusual, but 10/10 would eat again. I don’t have an Instagram-worthy photo of my food to insert here because it was actually raining all the way through our lunch and we sat in the outside seating area so everything was a little bit damp and windswept.

After wandering the markets a bit (Mum bought a lovely silver sunflower ring from a lovely lady on one of the stalls), we made our way to the Tube station and onto the theatre. This wasn’t before discovering the perils of Covent Garden tube station, where we climbed the 193 ’emergency’ stairs and realised *just* how far underground the trains run! It was more than enough exercise for at least the next 47 years.

So, the show. It was INCREDIBLE. South Park is my favourite TV show, but to have the minds of Trey Parker and Matt Stone in musical form was something I didn’t know I needed until it was right in front of me. I get that their sick sense of humor is not for everyone, but if you get your laughs from things a little off the cuff (read: a musical based entirely on mocking the Mormon faith, with gags about genital mutilation, homosexuality and AIDS throughout, among others) then you’ll really enjoy it. I’ll hold my hands up and say I did!

I’ve learned to appreciate everything other than the story too, when it comes to theatre – the artistic talent that goes into building the sets and the fluidity of the crew interchanging between them was a pleasure to watch. I don’t know much about the technicalities behind the scenes, but The Book Of Mormon used these devices to its full advantage to create some sharp, laugh-out-loud moments with perfect comedic timing.

Finally, the music. Although some of the songs need to be seen and heard in the context of the plot to be appreciated fully, I do have a few favourites that are funny, catchy and have been going round my head for the past four days. Here’s my current favourites: Take It Off and All-American Prophet:

Once the show sadly came to an end, we headed straight back to Paddington to grab a Nero’s (I will forever make the most of the employee discount) and get the 6pm train home. Turns out spontanaity takes it out of you a bit, and we were both knackered. Next time, we’ll get up much earlier and actually make the most of our time in London, because I always have so much fun there!

Anyway. Until tomorrow,

Emma x

 

 

Just A Quick One

…purely so I don’t end up breaking my Lentmas promise.

There won’t be a proper post today, as I’m not long back from a spontaneous day in London with my Mum. We went to see The Book Of Mormon after booking tickets literally last night, so as people who don’t often venture to the capital we’ve both been running on nervous energy all day.

I’ve had such a lovely day but I’m absolutely pooped. Check back tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it. Promise!

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

Bloody hell | Lentmas

Tonight I’m going to be rehashing a topic I spoke about on my old blog. Sorry if you feel as though you’ve read this before! You might just have. It’s still an important topic very close to my heart, which deserves to be talked about again and again.

give-bloodAnyway, I wanted to talk about something worthwhile that I really really support. As of 21st October, 2013, I’ve been a blood donor. My blood type is O+ (fun fact: I share my blood type with 38% of the donor population, and my blood can be safely given to a patient of any other blood group*), I have a tendancy to feel faint whenever I donate and I’m currently awaiting my 7th blood drive.

I thought I’d give you a bit of a low down on the blood donating process, in case there’s anyone reading who has always considered joining the register but hasn’t done so yet, for fear of the unknown. Trust me, I was exactly the same at first – had it not been for my friend Katy heading into town after a lecture at uni to donate and me tagging along out of curiosity, I’d probably be in the same boat!

So, you can donate once every three (men) or four (women) months, all being well – tattoos, piercings, or even just travelling out the country can affect this, but you’re given a quick Q&A assessment to get all that out the way upon your arrival. You’ll be directed to a booth to have a chat with a nurse (are you pregnant? Do you have three heads? blah blah) who will do a haemoglobin test, which feels a bit like having your finger stapled. Haemoglobin in the blood carries oxygen from the respiratory organs to the rest of the body, providing you with enough energy to power your metabolism. If you haven’t got the right haemoglobin levels, your blood won’t be able to provide poorly people will the right amount of nutrients to get their body back to normal. If you ever find yourself prohibited from giving blood because of your haemoglobin, a trip to the doctor’s can sort you out and usually you’ll be back to donating in a number of months.

The donating itself is surprisingly uneventful. Once your nurse is happy you’ve had enough to eat and drink (there’s free chocolate, crisps and squash everywhere and it’s fantastic), you’re sat in a chair, your arm is pumped up to get the blood flowing and wake your veins up and the needle is in. After that, you’ve just got to sit and wait! The nurse will give you some circulatory exercises to have a go at while you’re donating to stop light-headedness (speaking from experience, not ideal) – but they’re only small, like clenching your fists and twirling your ankles. Once you’re done, you’re rewarded with more food and drink and a chat. Last time I went, all of us in the ‘aftercare’ area struck up a conversation about Harry Potter, the new Star Wars film and the like. It was fun!

I would seriously recommend looking into giving blood if you can and aren’t already. It’s completely free and, having seen the life-saving effects of successful blood transfusions, I can guarantee it is completely worthwhile. My Dad was given an extra 19 years of happy life thanks to his back in 1996. It’s not even as if you’ll be needing the pint (or so) that you donate each time, as your body regenerates the blood in no time.

Visit blood.co.uk to get yourself clued up, or just have a nosey through @GiveBloodNHS on Twitter – a place where donors and receivers share their stories and you can see for yourself how just an hour of your time can be so massive to someone in need.

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

 

YSL Touche Éclat Le Teint Foundation | Review

Let’s begin this review by setting the record straight – I’m in no way a beauty blogger. In the past year or so, I have just taken an interest in more expensive makeup from higher quality brands. As I don’t wear makeup every day, I’m more willing to invest in something that’ll last me ages – doing a full face also feels a bit more special when you can see and feel the difference.

12722494_10208318131088120_1277028033_oSo, this foundation. I bought it based off a single review I’d seen on a beauty blog. The reviewer (can’t remember who it was now, whoops) described Touche Éclat Le Teint as lightweight and long-lasting, which was exactly what I wanted. Upon visiting the YSL counter to be matched and immediately finding a shade that was spot on, I knew I was making the right choice.

At £32.50(!!!), it’s not the cheapest foundation I’ve ever owned. For years I caked myself in Dream Matte Mousse for the sake of paying something like £9.50, even though I’m sure my skin hated me for it. The acne scars that grace my entire right cheek serve as a bitter reminder.

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With just one-and-a-half small pumps, the foundation manages a light, even coverage that doesn’t cake in the creases of your nose or pick up every single imperfection on your face (as some foundations so annoyingly do). Along with the primer I’ve used on my face first, the end result is a soft look that is just really peachy and nice with a bit of blush (I’ve never been one for contour). This bottle is going to last me ages. You can tell from my before and after, too, that it doesn’t drastically change the colour of my face – I don’t have the tell-tale orange line around my chin.

For me, Touche Éclat just ticks all the boxes. I paid a similar price to being matched with some MAC foundation last year, but was so disappointed by the gloopy, oily consistency of theirs and the poor job of matching me the sales assistant did (once away from their yellow-tinted mirror lighting I was left with a really yellow-toned, satsuma-esque shade. Not cool).

Your bank account may take a bit of a beating, but I would seriously recommend taking the plunge and investing in YSL’s wonderful offering. This is coming from possibly the biggest stinge you will ever come across.

Until tomorrow,

Emma x

 

Things I Swear By

You know how some fitness/beauty/lifestyle Internet personalities have little chestnuts that they live their lives by? I’m by no means throwing shade at anyone, but everywhere you see the phrase ‘I swear by…’ cropping up in vlogs, blog posts and Instagram captions. I thought, seeing as I technically fit the description of ‘Internet Personality’ with this here blog, I would divulge some of the things I swear by.

Prepare to be not at all surprised.

I swear by the end pieces on a loaf of bread. They taste the best and are worth squabbling over.

I swear by decaf coffee. I have never been one to use coffee for its caffeinating(?) benefits – I just love the flavour of coffee and the warmth of having a hot mug of…something.

I swear by easy listening, ‘middle-of-the-road’ music. Think James Blunt, Westlife, Snow Patrol: pretty much any slightly less cool variant of Michael Bublé. Being as into music as he was, my Dad would be turning in his grave (if he had one), but if I need to relax I want something soothing with a simple hook to listen to. Don’t look at me like that.

I swear by buying books and then either not finishing them or not starting them at all. This is regardless of whether I’m enjoying the book or not. The Time Traveller’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger? Loved it! I think it’s plot is incredibly clever and driven and I enjoyed getting invested in Clare and Henry’s story. Did I finish the book? Of course I  didn’t! (Do I know why I do this? Not a fucking sausage!!!!)

I swear by making fairly lavish purchases, for someone on practically minimum wage with a pitiful amount of hours some weeks, then only totting up how many hours I’ll have to work to re-imburse myself afterwards. Thank God I’ve not tried to do this for the 40 grand (or so) of debt I’ve amassed getting my degree.

There are countless other things I swear by that are a lot less tragic if we call them ‘quirks’. Yes, over spending and listening to Westlife. So…quirky.

Ha ha.

Until tomorrow,

Emma x