On Tuesday 27th December I travelled by coach down to Margate. There awaited my good friends, Jade and Joe. The journey down, although less scary every time I make it, was a lot busier with it being that horrid period between Christmas and New Year. 

As I write this I am eating my second 5-a-day salad this week from the Travellers Inn next to London Victoria coach station, and it’s the fricken bomb. It’s all halloumi and avocado and grapes and those nice little peppers that look like tear drops and shiz. If I had anyone here with me I’d take a photo of it but I’m at risked looking like a mass hipster and I don’t fancy it to be honest. 

It’s been a lovely week here in the south. I went to see Moana in the nice old theatre in ramsgate, I bought some sexy “duck ends” and some beautiful old books from Petticoat Lane(?… I think that’s what it’s called), ate loads of nice food and basically just did loads of stuff including baking some red velvet cupcakes with Jade which I don’t think I would ever try and make on my own! (Basically they’re a ball ache).

So I’m pretty sad to be leaving to be honest. But atleast now I will get to see my bed at last, I’m doubting I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to see in the new year… we shall see. 



I have never struggled to sleep. On the contrary actually, I find it rather difficult to stay awake most of the time. 

Lately, or rather the last year or so, I have struggled with sleeping. Particularly in the last 4 months, I’ve been waking up restlessly, totally soaked around my neck. It’s not great. 

My dreams are weird as shit, mostly horrible like the one I just had of letting my mum drown in a swimming pool, or having a load of kids on a long chain like balloons (somebody made me hold their fairground ride while they went to the toilet), accidentally letting go and watching them, with the worst, chest tightening feeling ever, float up and up into nothing, knowing they were lost forever and it was all my fault. 

The most common is to be woken by things crawling in me or buzzing around my head, then waking up to nothing but the dark. 

I’d rather just not dream at all, thank you. 

I don’t know what is causing me now to not sleep through the night without disturbance. I’m not particularly stressed out at the moment, that is apart from what this is causing, so if the universe has any ideas, please give me a sign. 

Sleepy regards.

Six-hundred and eighteen words down… One-thousand, three-hundred and eighty-two to go.

I’m currently writing a 2000 word reflective essay on what I’ve learnt in the Academic Study Skills module over the course of 3 months. 

And yes. As a break, I’m blogging.

Despite giving me a headache and causing my will to live to wander off in search of stiff drink, it is actually making me realise how much I’ve enjoyed university so far, and just how much I have learnt!

Congratulations, me. Now keep going, you can do it! Less than three quarters of the way to go!

The inevitable blog, i.e, my most frequent complaint.

Isn’t IBS fun.

In many cases (mine included) it can be triggered by worrying. I am 83% made up of worry. 

I can’t even drink away my problems because that triggers it too. Nor can I eat greasy food. 

Cold drinks? Nah.

I try to eat healthy. My body then goes WHADDAFUCKISDIS?? and an hour later I’m exploding again. Bro.

Maybe I’ll try going for a jog, get the heart pumping… No because even that turns my stomach to liquid! 

Basically my body can just do one, end of. 

As soon as full-body transplants are a thing, I’ll be the first to apply. 

Trying to be quiet

At 4am in a massive, old-as-toss English house, it is impossible.

I’ve been turning off my radiator at night because it reaches tropical temperatures in my room. Something to do with having 2 radiators on the walls surrounding my bed. But of course the night before my graded uni presentation which has been heavily under-practiced, I forgot. 

I won’t bore you with the intricacies of my weird American-government alien conspiracy dreams, but I had one. And so everything got a bit much and I had to go downstairs for a while to cool off. 

I’ve been constipated for like 2 days now, which for me is very unusual (usually I can’t stop it from coming out) and of course, NOW it decides to make a move. 

THE LOUDEST ECHOIEST CLINKING SHIT I’VE HANDS-DOWN EVER DONE WHICH LASTED FOREVER. Then of course the flush, which just loves to be heard anyway, then upon refilling itself makes loud, factory noises that can be heard wherever you are in the house.

Let’s now see if I can tiptoe back without tripping over a cat or something. 

Good morning to all. 

Calling all John Krasinskis…

Come here. Like now.

Because you in fact are my dream man. This is, by the way, going out to any men who have the looks and personality of John Krasinski. This is all that is required. Even if you have a surname like Fartsworthy or you are closely related to a mass murdering rapist, I am the Emily Blunt to your charming self. 

So, once again, all men resembling the looks and general attitude to life of John Krasinski who are residing in the Hull/Cottingham catchment area, please check in. I should be doing work right now, but this is very important. 

PS. Any Kate Mckinnons out there should please respond to my calls of interest on instagram. 

Thank you.