The year in numbers.

The year in numbers.

33 blog posts

3 blogger recognition awards

4 jobs

2 house moves

2 holidays

2 cities

2 cars

1 relationship

Too many cocktails

3940 blog views...

It's been a whirlwind year.

When I started writing this thing as a means of keeping myself sane back in March, I never dreamed I would still be writing it now.

The response and feedback I have had from friends and readers has been absolutely crazy so thank you for sticking with me!

I will be spending the remainder of 2014 drunk, and then extremely hungover on the road back to Leeds, so I just wanted to say, here's to an awesome 2015 everyone.

And if anyone has the misfortune to spot me on the A1 South on Thursday, please keep your distance. 

Hangovers and road rage don't mix!

L x

And the bells were ringing out...

Whenever I come home to the parents house at weekends, I tend to see less of them than I do during the week when I'm 110 miles away where all we have to communicate by is FaceTime.

When you're on such a limited time frame, it's hard to get to spend any kind of quality time with anyone because there is always a hundred things to do.

So I feel very blessed that I have a whole week off over the Christmas period to spend some actual time with my nearest and dearest, rather than feel like I'm rushing to see everyone I have to see before I head back South.

Today has been amazing. I don't think anything can beat a proper family Christmas.

After a traditional boozy Christmas Eve in the home town, celebrations this morning started late with a rather fuzzy head.

It was nothing that Christmas dinner couldn't solve though, and Prosecco, and cake... And some chocolates and then some more cake...

Basically I'm in a Christmas food coma.

Twice today I have physically had to lie down on the floor, and I even had to take a nap in the middle of the day.

Hangover or no hangover, I think I may be starting to feel my age!

So here I am, tucked up in bed in my fluffy panda pyjamas, happy as a clam because I got to watch the Downton Abbey Christmas special (yes, I am that tragic) and all there is really left to say is, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I hope Santa was good to each and every one of you!

L x

The sleepy monster.

I feel like I should probably start this post with an apology for the tirade i subjected your poor eyes to last week... If any of you hadn't already guessed, I pretty much turn into an overemotional monster when I'm sleep deprived.

The neighbours house party last Thursday finally shut itself down at 4.10am with no help from me. I paced the floors a bit and tried ringing 101 twice but never got through.

Oh West Yorkshire police...

So as you can probably imagine, Friday was a complete write off. After feeling like I was coming down with Ebola during the week anyway, the lack of sleep really kicked the s**t out of me and I ended up crying at my desk within the first half hour of getting to work.

Just keeping it classy you know!

"Go home to bed Leanne" my boss said... Despite not wanting to pass on my germies, I hugged her and did exactly that.

Unfortunately my germies are real germies and I've since been completely floored by a chest infection, so there's not much to report from the weekend gone apart from I've done a LOT of catch-up sleeping from the comfort of home.

I have managed to drag myself back to Loiner-land to get through my final day of work before the Christmas holidays and I'll be driving back up to the frozen North tomorrow.

As it's already 4.30am and I'm writing this from my bed in ugly house where once again I'm wide awake, I'm going to be sleep deprived and emotional again... 

Drivers beware! 

Ultimate road rage coming to a motorway near you.

L x

I'm going mad.

I think I'm slowly losing it.

I've been re-reading some of my very first blog posts from when I very first moved to Leeds to try and gain some perspective, and all I have ascertained is that, I'm losing it...

...The will to stay here that is.

I thought ugly house life was going to be the bees knees. The cats pyjamas. The dogs tuxedo. But instead, so far in under a week, I've been pushed to my limit not once, but TWICE.

Not by my housemates or even the household appliances. But by my new street.

When I first began house hunting, colleagues warned me away from certain areas of Leeds. Hyde Park was mentioned, as was Chapel Town and Beeston... But everyone said that Headingley was the place to be. 

So like a good girl, I listened. 

All of these people can't be wrong? Surely?

So here I am, living in Headingley, and in the space of 5 days, the house directly opposite mine has been burgled, and now my next door neighbour is throwing a house party on a Thursday night, blasting music into the small hours when I need to be up for work at 6.30am.

Oh yes, Headingley is the place to be... If you're a selfish student with no concept of reality yet.

Yes, I'm ranting like an old fuddy duddy, my Grandad would be so proud, but I don't know what else to do?!

Fair enough, I panicked over the burglary. My brand new car is parked outside, what if the burglars took a fancy to it while they were clearing out the house opposite and decide to come back?

But the noisy neighbour is a new irk to contend with.

It's now 2.30am... I've been round twice to tell them to turn it down. No answer both times. 

How my housemates are still asleep is beyond me. I'm trying to drown out the noise with my own headphones in and I can still hear the bass coming through the wall.

Do I call the police? Or is that just setting myself up for a further 7 months of hell?

All I know is I'm seriously questioning my choice of house right now. I think I may have made a huge mistake...

L x

Moving day: The sequel.

I have about 7 bruises on my legs and a few more forming on my arms and hands.

Nope, I haven't fallen down drunk, I've finally moved into ugly house, and it seems that me carrying boxes around is a disaster waiting to happen.

Saturday 13th December will now be only known as moving day. As it was the day after my birthday, I should probably have spent it curled up in a little ball of hungoverness, eating McDonald's and feeling like shit, 23 year old shit...

But instead, I packed up my car (and my parents car) and drove down from Newcastle to get everything out of my little city nest and across to ugly house. Who knew I had so many clothes?!

That's where the fun and games began.

So everyone knows that Leeds is an awful city to drive around in general. So imagine my delight when on approaching the outskirts of the city centre I discovered there was a football match on. 

It was out and out CHAOS! A sea of people in blue and yellow scarves were wandering drunkenly through the gridlocked traffic where I found myself stuck for quite some time listening to my SatNav repeat itself.

Another thing everyone knows about Leeds is that parking is very expensive. Luckily, getting a short stay permit for the service yard behind my building had never been a problem... Until moving day.

"I'm sorry I've let all of the passes out for today" the concierge man told me. He seemed perfectly calm, nice even, in my head even now I know it wasn't his fault, but at the time, it felt like he was trying to be as unhelpful as possible. So I yelled at him... Just a little. 

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? CARRY MY FURNITURE DOWN THE STREET?!"

Oops. Bad Leanne.

Then to make things worse, my landlord rang. He seemed to think I had arranged to meet him at 12pm to hand the keys over. As it was now 2.15pm and I'd kept him "waiting", he was less than impressed and gave me an earful of abuse too.

So stressed, angry, and with a limited time of about 20 minutes to clear my entire flat out, the parents and I started racing up and down in the lift carrying as many bags and boxes full of stuff as humanly possible.

My haphazard angry packing skills are not all that great, so our cars resembled a badly played game of Tetris by the time everything was in. All that was left then was to find our way out of the city to ugly house.

Even with 2 SatNavs and road signs, we got lost. Apparently I ran 3 red lights in my blind panic to not end up on the motorway to Manchester, but I think it was more like 1...

It was completely dark by the time we arrived at the house so I don't think my parents got the best first impression of the house, but by the time they left I think they could see the charm in it.

My housemate said to me afterwards: "It's amazing what 3 determined Geordies can do!" Referring to the rigorous cleaning spree my parents went on while I unpacked.

So ugly house is now not looking quite so ugly!

I'll admit I was disappointed that all the building work is STILL unfinished, and that our new fridges/freezer/tumble dryer/washing machine/dishwasher/TV still haven't arrived, but we have 2 Christmas trees and some flat pack furniture. What more do you need eh?

So now I guess it's just a case of settling in. My first night I was so exhausted I pretty much passed out, but tonight I haven't been so lucky. I'm finally noticing all the new noises and my overactive imagination is of course thinking the worst.

The worst being I think we've been burgled twice in one night.

I've probably had about 2 hours sleep and my alarm is due to go off in 20 minutes... It's going to be a long day!

L x

3 is the magic number.

WHAT A WEEK!

Once again, I have discovered the power of the magic number 3: starting my new job, buying a new car, and finally signing the dotted line on a house share, all within the space of 7 days.

I think I should probably start at the very beginning, as its a very good place to start.

So on Monday, with the remains of a 2 day hangover following my Icelolly leaving party and a tummy full of butterflies, I started my new job as a project coordinator and digital marketing guru (quite a step up from intern/tea bitch).

Real jobs require real work clothes, so dressed to impress I tootled through Leeds on my brand new oh-so-high heels and arrived at my new office 20 minutes later with jelly legs like I'd run a marathon, and 4 rather painful blisters. Luckily, there is quite a lot of sitting down involved in my new role. Thank god.

Naturally, being the new girl, I get the impression that my new workmates are rather wary of me. I guess they'll get used to me eventually and the ice will break in its own sweet time, but hell it's made me miss my Icelolly family so much!

The job itself though is absolutely incredible. I've realised that I know a damn sight more about digital marketing than I ever realised, and I've already got my own little projects on the go to channel my ideas into. I even hosted my first meeting... Who would've thought it eh.

On top of my new working schedule, Kate and I had arranged a few more house viewings in the evenings and made a pact that no matter how difficult, we would have made a decision about a place by the end of the week.

Which thankfully turned out to be quite easy to do.

We looked at 3 more houses around the Headingley area, one of which definitely piqued our interest, however, for some bizarre reason, both of us kept comparing it back to ugly house.

Incredibly, our demands to redecorate ugly house before we even paid our deposits were met with enthusiasm from the landlord who has even offered to supply the dust sheets. What a gent. So the decision became a no brainer.

All I can say is there must be some pretty strong forces at work in that house, because we've now picked our bedrooms, bought some paint, and the moving date is set for 2 weeks time!

Oh. My. Days!

This of course means that my little nest had to go back on the market...

Someone is coming to view it tomorrow, so I've just had a crazy little cleaning spree to make it look it's shiny best! I will be sad to leave it, my first little home, but onwards and upwards!

Lastly, I come to my new wheels.

BOOM!

It's so beautiful, I would happily drive it to the moon and back. We won't be united full time until I move into ugly house, so at the moment, it's going to live with my parents and I'm going to have to make do with a long distance relationship.

*sighs*

I really don't do things by halves do I?

L x

The good, the bad and the ugly.

After Tuesdays out and out disastrous house viewing, my enthusiasm for real estate has somewhat waned.

Obviously, we still have to find a house, but the excitement has totally been taken out of looking.

Every advert I look at now just seems too good to be true, so I'm finding myself set up to be disappointed before I even go to the appointments.

That is, that's how I did feel, until Thursday evening...

The Good.

Can anyone remember the TV show Cribs? When a camera crew from MTV would go and snoop about in celebrities super beautiful houses?

That is totally how me and Kate felt at this incredible house in Horsforth.

We had expected this one to be 1000x better than the first one anyway just because of the area, but JEEEEEEEESUSSSSS!!!

It was palatial! An 8 bedroom mansion with a swimming pool for a bath tub, a field for a garden and a kitchen you could have played football in.

It was the kind of house that everyone dreams about living in one day.

So it breaks my heart to say... We decided not to go for it.

There were reasons for our decision of course, but out of respect, I won't put them to print.

The Bad.

Today, we went to look at 2 more contenders in Headingley. Straight away I had a good feeling about the area.

Residential, homely... Something just clicked.

I wish I could say the same about this house that we saw.

It was so tiny! Lovely decor and very modern, but so small, it makes my little nest look grandiose.

The letting agent informed us there had been a pretty devastating flood there a few months before so to ignore the foisty smell, but with or without this little nugget of information, we wouldn't have considered living there anyway.

The Ugly.

This is where things get interesting ladies and gentlemen.

The final house I'm going to describe to you is beyond doubt one of the worst decorated properties I've ever seen.

1970s flamboyant pattern carpets, dark wood mismatched furniture, bright lurid orange and green painted walls...

But for some insane reason, both me and Kate have fallen in love with it.

It was like going into a cat and dog shelter and instead of picking the pretty, prancey little poodle puppy, cooing over the scraggy little mongrel that had been left in the rain for too long.

It's a bit of a fixer upper, I'll admit, but it has a brand new kitchen and 2 new bathrooms, plus 6 bedrooms which are all HUGE if completely hideous.

Plus as a bonus, we met one of our potential housemates, and got on like a house on fire (pardon the pun).

It's the first property we've looked at that we could actually picture ourselves living in. 

So... *drumroll please* We've entered into negotiations with the letting agency!

WOOOHOOOOO!!!

I'm trying to strike a deal about the decor so we can be let loose with some paint brushes in our own bedrooms, but all being well, we finally have a house we can call a home.

L x

The House Share.

So on bonfire night, after a bottle of wine (always the best time to make decisions) my dear friend and colleague Kate made me a proposition...

(No, not that kind of proposition!)

She asked if I wanted to be her roomie if we could find a house share.

As much as I've grown to love my little city nest, the lack of essentials like a washing machine and an oven have finally become too much, and I really need to find somewhere I can make a home.

So, for the last few weeks, we have been trawling spare room sites looking for places to live.

We really thought we had hit lucky with a 5 bedroom share in Burley. It had everything we were looking for, plus the price was good...

But something which seems to be too good to be true, usually is.

If I was Carrie Bradshaw and Leeds was Manhattan, this place was the Bronx.

The first big cross in the box was the pile of litter just casually sitting in the street across the road from the house.

Who the hell are the neighbours?!

Cross two was the front door. Now me and Kate are by no means roided up gym bunnies, and we could have put our knuckles through the front door just by knocking on it.

It didn't instil much confidence about security!

By the time the landlord arrived to show us around, I had already planned a fairly strategic break in and my concerns were pretty high.

Then we got inside...

Putting it politely, whoever took the photos of the place for the website must be an absolute wizard with a camera.

The advert never said that exposed wiring, peeling paintwork and damp were the existing housemates.

I think the landlord sensed our disappointed and we were outta there pretty sharpish, not before I had time to fall down the stairs though.

Bloody shoes.

Mortified but laughing, I headed back to Burley station to catch the train back to the city centre, when I was stopped by a ticket inspector: "have you got a ticket?"

"Yeah, sure", I replied, reaching for my purse.

"This is an off-peak ticket, you'll need to pay 5p extra for another one".

I genuinely thought he was kidding.

He wasn't.

So 5p lighter and with a twisted ankle I waited on the platform for a good 20 minutes, to find that the train was delayed.

Needless to say, I'm not feeling much love for Burley right now!

And so we find ourselves back to the proverbial drawing board. Luckily, the experience has only given me faith that we can't genuinely find anywhere worse to live.

Every cloud eh!

L x

Suits.

We say to girls,

"You can have ambition

But not too much

You should aim to be successful

But not too successful..." 

- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Before I begin, I just want to say, I am by no means the girliest girl on the planet.

Yes, I like sparkly things and high heeled shoes, and the mere thought of doing football in PE at school was enough to send me into a state of absolute panic, but I am nobody's barbie doll.

Yet despite this, my inner girly side was set a challenge today, a challenge which was presented due to my looming new job start date...

I needed to buy a suit.

Nothing flash, just a jacket and trouser combo that can be worn day to day, but also for meetings and whatnot with businessy-type posh people.

I must have read a zillion articles about "power dressing" in magazines long before I ever had any real need to pay attention... So I didn't really know where to start!

Suits always remind me of times when my Dad would go away on business when I was a kid. He'd disappear for a few days in his pinstriped suit, with his briefcase and laptop and all the kids in my street thought he was a spy.

Maybe he was... 

All I ever cared about was whether he'd bring me back some sweets.

So the Mother and I set off to the shops to buy MY first suit.

Something I never thought I would do.

"I don't want to look like a man" was my only specification.

But as it turns out, there is actually quite a nice selection of women's business wear on the high street!

My only real issue turned out to be sizing.

I'm the first to admit, I'm not in great shape at the moment. I'm definitely on the wrong side of curvaceous-bordering-squishy, but jeeeeeeeesus!

How is it possible to be 3 different dress sizes in 1 shop?!

My poor Mother got the full force of my pouty tantrum when the third pair of trousers didn't fit.

Bless her, she tried her best to make me feel less like a walrus in a catsuit...

"It's just the shaping", "the sizes are always tiny here", "maybe it's just the material"... 

But I was a woman possessed!

We ended up leaving Outfit empty handed, and instead spent an obscene amount of money in Next, where clothes actually fit properly.

What are parents for eh?!

So I'm now suited ready for my new job starting on the 24th, I just need to find the shoes to match.

Let's hope all the aggro turns out to be worth it!

L x

Leodiensian.

It seems that 3 really is the magic number.

When I first made the move to Leeds back in April, I left home for the first time, changed cities, and started a new job all on the same day.

This week, I have accepted a new job, ended a relationship and handed in my tenancy notice with my landlord...

WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?!

Yes I must be mad! But onwards and upwards so they say!

Although I am yet to sign on the dotted line, I have accepted a job offer from a ridiculously prosperous Leeds based company who specialise in hosting networking events for local businesses.

It's a fantastic opportunity for me which I just couldn't afford to turn down. Of course, this means I'm leaving my fantastic icelolly family behind...

They know I'm devastated, but hopefully we can all keep in touch, they've been my whole Leeds world this year!

The parents have mixed feelings about my decision not to come home, but I know they're 110% behind me no matter what and just want me to be happy, which I really think I'm starting to be!

I've had a fab weekend in Leeds, a messy night out on Friday, followed by a severe hangover and a bonfire party on Saturday, and then a trip to the Royal Armouries (a Leeds institution so I'm told!) followed by more alcohol consumption today.

I think it's fair to say I'm on my way to becoming a real leodiensian or "loiner".

I doubt I will ever lose my stupid Cheryl Cole-esque accent but I'm willing to call this place home for now.

For the first time in a while, I'm excited about things to come.

L x

Distance.

Love is a bitch.

Relationships are not easy.

They require many things; investment in time, trust, and emotion being the 3 biggest things in my opinion.

This blog is supposed to be a record of the big things which happen/have happened to me during my time in Leeds.

So however childish it may seem, and no matter how hard it is to write, it's only right that I should post an update to tell whoever even reads this that my relationship with my boyfriend has come to an end.

Long distances can drive a wedge between people, whether they be your lover or your best friend or even a family member.

Without some serious dedication, this wedge can become a serious problem and eventually drive people apart.

In my current situation, relationships with all of my nearest and dearest have become strained in one way or another, and I just haven't been able to invest enough of myself into saving some of them.

So here I am.

Really alone for the first time since I moved out.

This is going to take some getting used to.

L x

Sugar Coating.

Hola!

Or I should really say hello... I have been back in Leeds now for a week and a half so all memories of my little Ibiza soujourn are starting to fade away, along with my tanning effort.

For most, this is the time when the holiday blues would kick in, like mine did when I returned from Gran Canaria earlier in the year.

This time round however, this is not the case.

Because of sensitive details, I am going to sugar coat my recollection of my holiday and tell you simply: we made the best of a bad situation.

Between arguments within the group, pretty much every bar, shop and restaurant being closed and almost getting kicked out of the hotel... Needless to say I've had better holidays.

So now I'm back in reality (almost gladly) and the incessant job searching continues!

I'm probably getting around 5 phone calls a day from various recruitment consultants and agencies, but the majority are about as much use as the proverbial chocolate fireguards.

I'm now up to about 16 applications, 5 rejections and 4 interviews though so progress is being made... Just not necessarily in the right direction!

Job hunting is almost like a full time job in itself, if only I was getting paid to do it after my ordinary working day is done.

In other news, my Yorkshire education is coming along nicely, I can now make a fairly decent cuppa despite not drinking it myself, and I've visited Harrogate!

Another one ticked off the map.

It's well and truly drawing into winter now, it's dark when I wake up, and dark when I leave work.

I've nearly seen all four seasons from my little flat window now, I will be sorry to go before I've seen Christmas but you never know!

L x

Twas the night before Ibiza...

Wait, that's not how it goes is it...

WHOOOOAA WE'RE GOING TO IBIZA!

This time tomorrow I will be on the White Isle, with a vodka in each hand and a smile on my face, not tucked up in bed in my reindeer pyjamas.

When the wolf pack and I booked this little holiday, we didn't quite understand exactly why the deal was so cheap, it transpires that pretty much everything when we get there will be closed...

This is less than ideal.

But even so, the last few weeks have been hectic and I'm ready for a break!

It has now been officially decided that my internship at my present company will come to an end in December.

It's something I have seen coming, but even so, it's given me a right boot up the backside to find another job!

Thus far, 11 applications, 2 rejections, 1 interview, and the rest clearly got lost in the post.

Not the best start but I'll get there!

There's no way I want to end up jobless and homeless at Christmas. 

I've been so stressed out though by the whole process, I have kind of morphed into a super bitch and haven't been particularly nice to be around lately, hence the lack of posting.

This is when I miss my goldfish, at least I could rant at it without it getting offended.

So this holiday is EXACTLY what I need. It's more than I can afford really... but isn't that what the bank of Mam and Dad is for?

;)

Adios x

Specsy Lady.

As fashions have changed over the years, one accessory over any other has made itself cool, and then uncool again more times than Miley Cyrus.

Glasses.

Spectacles, goggs, geps, specs... Whatever you want to call them, glasses are a necessary (not always evil) fact of life for those unfortunate to be blind as the proverbial bat.

My own eyesight has been on the blink (oh I'm on a roll with the puns here...) since I was about 7 years old, when my mother marched me to  the local Specsavers to find out the cause of the crazy eye stretches I had taken to doing whilst watching TV.

Since then, every 2 or 3 years, I have been summoned back to the opticians chair, and each time, been told my eyesight had again deteriorated, and sent away with some shiny new glasses.

I've had blue ones, tortoise shell ones, pink ones, round ones, square ones, bendy ones, unbreakable ones... You name it!

At my last eye test about a year ago, I was told that my eyes had now become so bad, I was required to wear my glasses for driving. So I splashed out on a designer pair, given I was now actually expected to wear my geps in public.

So, imagine my surprise when said glasses started giving me crippling headaches a few weeks ago whenever I wore them.

Why would this be? Have my eyes got worse again so soon?

Obviously I now work in an office where 8 hours a day staring at a computer screen is mandatory, so naturally, I feared the worst.

Booking myself in for a re-test, I was therefore DELIGHTED and baffled to hear the news that for the first time in 15 years, my eyes have IMPROVED!

2 points of vision gained back in each eye. How and why, I have no idea, but I'm thrilled!

I picked up my shiny shiny new glasses yesterday and probably for the first time since becoming a speccy four eyes, I actually want to wear them, 24/7.

I love them! 

Glasses are back in style again, the bigger the frame, the better!

My delightful boyfriend pointed out that in this latest pair, I bear a striking resemblance to Velma from Scooby Doo (if I had dark hair and a penchant for orange knitwear).

But even so... Bothered much?

Not in the slightest.

L x

8-)

A&E.

In my mind, a trip to A&E is only meant for those people who have been unlucky enough to trap their heads in buckets, or fall drunkenly into the path of a taxi, not for things that doctors can sort out with the wave of a magic prescription.

Unfortunately however, I found myself sat in Leeds General's A&E department on Tuesday evening for a delightful 2 hours.

I've been trying to get a doctors appointment about my asthma for the last fortnight now, and the unhelpful receptionist has each time told me that there was no appointments until the following week. 

I thought I was on the mend, but on Tuesday took a turn for the worse simply walking down my street and ended up taking myself to the hospital.

I'm fine, (luckily!) a simple upper lung infection is just kicking my ass and I'm now rasping as if I smoke 60 a day. 

So I've had to take my first sick day from work to get these super strong steroid tablets into my system. The only thing I hate about steroids is, they make you unnecessarily HYPER!

I'm ill for gods sake, I want to sleep and do nothing and lie down. Oh no, my mind may be saying: "kill me now, my chest hurts", whereas my body is screaming "yippee!! Let's tap dance!"

So I've been awake all night for the second time this week, but incredibly, I don't feel like hell (yet).

WTF.

I hate being off sick, I can't help feeling like I'm letting everybody down, plus in my little cave flat, it's easy to get bored of the same 4 walls VERY quickly.

To go back to work today? Or to take another day?

Hmmm...

L x

Rats.

So I'm aware I haven't posted in a while but I'm not going to say sorry this time.

I basically haven't posted out of consideration for my readers.

NOTHING INTERESTING HAS BEEN HAPPENING IN MY LIFE!

Like seriously, I have been caught in a rut of work, eat, watch soaps, sleep, repeat, for the last 3 weeks at least. 

I have taken on some extra freelance work writing for an online magazine called The Metropolist (www.themetropolist.com) and have so far published 2 articles with them, so that has killed a few nights, but honestly, there has been nothing catastrophic/fantastic/mildly amusing to report.

This past week however has been rather an odd one in my little working world. Not one, but THREE of my colleagues have either left the company, or announced they are leaving.

As they used to say: "when the rats start to jump ship..." maybe it is time to think about moving on too?

By no means am I suggesting there is anything wrong with the company, I just find it hard to imagine working without some of my fellow compadres who I have grown incredibly fond of over the last 5 months.

Also, I have made no secret of my homesickness for the North East and have harboured a desire to return home someday from pretty much day one!

So I've been job hunting.

As I quite well expected, there is not much work in my specific field going up in Newcastle.

Thus far, I have found one job worth applying for and I have done everything possible to try and ensure I get an interview, but it's difficult to know exactly what these places are looking for in a candidate.

If all else fails, I have told my parents I am quite willing to take any job that comes my way, even if it is outside of my expertise, just so I can come home.

I even joked that I would train to become a lion tamer or a cleaner... But in hindsight I really wouldn't. 

All I can do is pray and hope that something good comes of this job application, or that over the coming months until the end of my contract, more jobs will come available.

The inevitable move further south to find work is seeming closer and closer, but until the point of desperation comes, I will do everything I can not to succumb to it!

As ever, I will report any advancements.

L x

Foodie.

Anyone who knows me could tell you that I'm not exactly what you might call a "foodie".

I've actually got real issues with food. For starters, I'm a vegetarian with a severe nut allergy, so let's just say my diet is fairly limited.

Secondly, I'm the worst cook in the world.

I repeatedly burn toast, set my microwave alight, and wind up ordering takeaways I can't really afford.

A fictional hero of mine once said: "You don't understand. The only thing I have ever made in the kitchen, is a mess".

This statement well and truly applies to me tonight!

After months of living on a menu of pasta, cheese toasties, and jacket potatoes stuck on repeat, I am BORED of mealtimes.

So tonight I decided to attempt something a little more adventurous and well out of my culinary comfort zone.

Vegetarian sausage, mash, peas and gravy.

Yes, I can almost hear the snorts of laughter coming from you as you read that, you may have just sprayed your own tea all over your iPhone in disbelief, but for me, this is a major step forward!

And just look at the result...

I've got a way to go to being Jamie Oliver, but by god it tasted good! 

Even my parents were impressed...

L x

Peter Pan.

Thick twiney threads of dust and dirt scale the edge of the platform, like many filthy spiders legs caught in the breeze of a passing train.

Not my train.

A couple comes to stand right in front of me, whispering (not so discreet) sweet nothings to each other in a language I don't understand, rubbing noses like Eskimos.

I'm getting really irritated now.

My train is delayed. First it was 20 minutes... Then another 10 then another 5... Here I am 40 minutes later still standing on platform 12D waiting for a train home that doesn't seem to want to come, watching the flashes of lightning overhead illuminate the packed out platform.

At least it has given me time to reflect on my manic week.

The first big bit of news is that I finally signed a contract which extends my internship until December.

I thought that this would subsequently leave me homeless by October as I only signed a 6 month lease on my flat.

Piece of good news number 2 came via email from my landlord yesterday, he's going to let me stay on until Christmas.

Halle-fricking-lujah! I don't have to move in with any smelly students!

Also, my project at work which has taken up much of my time since April is finally all coming together, and is looking more brilliant than I ever imagined it could be.

Quite a whirlwind week!

A friend of mine is getting married tomorrow, this has brought it home to me still how far I have to go on this road to "growing up", but I can safely say, this week I have felt very mature.

The level of responsibility resting on my shoulders is incredible but I feel ridiculously on top of things!

That's a first!

Oh, the train is here...

L x

Salsa.

So I am slightly delayed in writing this. It has taken me this long to overcome the shame of my actions to actually put thumbs to keypad.

The incident I am about to relay to you occurred this Wednesday evening just passed.

After some not-so-subtle nudges from workmates, I was talked into joining a club. A salsa dancing club no less.

For a while my workmates had been trying to convince me into taking up a sport. As I can neither catch nor run without getting hit in the face/falling on my face, I thought I would try something relatively within my comfort zone.

From the age of 4, up until I started university, I was part of a dance school. So I can hardly say I have 2 left feet. Of course, I am no Beyoncé, but I can wiggle my hips sufficiently enough without making people think I'm just having a fit of some sort.

Salsa is something I did a little of in dance classes, and even MORE of when I was on holiday last month.

Oh those Spanish boys can move!

Anyways, when I saw an advert for a salsa class down the road from my place in Leeds, I figured mehh! Why not!

On the website it said it was a "sociable class", people of "all ages"  can join in, and "no partner necessary!"

Sounds decent! I thought.

So I psyched myself up and arranged (with myself) to go check it out on Wednesday. 

I then made the fatal mistake of going out with my workmate and getting bladdered on the Tuesday night. 

Damn cocktails.

So feeling rather worse for wear, I admit I wasn't too thrilled with the prospect of going ahead with my salsa plan. But out of fear of letting myself down, I pushed myself to get ready and wander down at 7.30. 

Only to find the venue had been changed last minute, and instead of the nice little bar with lots of dark corners to hide in, it was to be held in the middle of Leeds Corn Exchange, in full public view.

Dear Lord.

With some hesitation I lingered in the doorway and watched people file in, in true Noah's ark fashion, two by two.

There was the odd foursome, but it quickly became apparent that everyone was "with someone"... Except me.

I lingered a bit longer, praying another loner (preferably a hot Spanish guy) would sashay through the doors to my rescue. 

But no one came.

So what did I do? I did what any other wimp would do in my situation and I turned and ran. Ran all the way back to my flat, kicking myself for being so cowardly.

So much for "getting out there".

I'm thinking I might give it another shot in a few weeks and hopefully this time it won't be so 'coupley'.

I just have to leave things a sufficient enough length of time that the other dancers will have forgotten what the back of my retreating head looks like.

L x

Holiday Blues.

I'm getting really really bad with this. Apologies again if anyone has been waiting with bated breath for the next instalment of my humdrum little life... 

Somehow I doubt this.

Truth is, I've been on my jolly holidays! First, a weekend away with my wolf pack in a caravan in Scarborough (it was very, "carry on camping", followed by a week in sunny Gran Canaria.

Yes I live a charmed life...

It wasn't until I was on the plane coming back from holiday number 2 that it kind of occurred to me how long it had been since I updated my blog.

It's funny what lack of sleep, vodka-over-indulgence and too much sun can do to the brain. I was going to use this post to write something really poetic and airy fairy about flying at night... But sod it. People like facts!

So here goes... I've now been back a week, my goldfish has died and so far, I've really struggled to readjust back into reality.

Work has been crazy busy this week, and already I can feel my tan deserting me. 'Holiday blues' isn't strong enough a phrase to describe how I've been feeling.

Cadburys dairy milk has been a great comfort, as has the endless amounts of Emmerdale and Coronation Street I've had to catch up on. It's always nice to see someone else, (even a fictitious character) having a worse time of things than you.

So here I find myself on the train back to Leeds after a weekend at home with the family and friends (and pooch), listening to the Spice Girls greatest hits of all things, in order to put a small smile on my face.

Oh nineties cheese! You beauty!

Somewhere I think there might be a World Cup final happening? Because it's a particularly quiet train tonight. Probably a good thing because it means no one can overhear the absolutely abominable music blaring from my headphones. 

It's taking all my self restraint not to do the dance moves.

Anyways... In less tragic news I've made a life decision, I'm going to write a book. I've had a few ideas floating around in my pea brain for a while now, but one in particular has overtook the other in clarity, so I'm going to give it a go.

Hopefully I will have more dedication to that project than this blog!

L x

Etiquette.

Since moving to Leeds, I have spent more time on trains/waiting for trains/booking train tickets than I have in my whole life.

A driver from the age of 17, I've always been more comfortable with roads than rails. Now I find myself separated from my beloved little car, I haven't got much choice but to embrace it.

I sat and worked out that thus far, I have spent an astonishing 22.5 hours of my Leeds life on trains. 

That's almost a whole day!

So I've become somewhat of an expert in train travel etiquette.

On the odd occasion when I manage not to fall asleep the second we pull out of the station, I like to sit and observe my fellow passengers.

Does that sound creepy? It's not meant to. Honest.

Anyway... It's kind of protocol now that you receive allocated seating with your tickets. You can request to be near the loos or have a window seat, but you very rarely get what you ask for.

I've spent 2 months requesting forward facing seats... I've now travelled backwards so many times,  it no longer makes me nauseous.

So you always end up sat next to a stranger. I like to be polite and say hello before I plonk myself down, to this, you get mixed responses.

Some people reply to your greeting with gusto, (like the bearded gentleman sat to my right at this very moment). 

Others are not so welcoming. Some smell, some give you the once over as if assessing whether you're good enough to sit with them. 

Some stuck their headphones in and stare through you, others try and engage you in conversation... The list is endless.

The one thing I have ascertained however, is that no matter how much you're struggling with your bag, people on trains will very rarely offer you any help.

It's almost like a game I genuinely have to psyche myself up to play before boarding the train.

I get my seat number and carriage playing on repeat in my head, run for the relevant door, patiently wait while other passengers disembark then make my move for the luggage rail.

My lack of a washing machine in my flat means I have to cart all of my washing home to my mother at weekends (yes, she loves me for it I'm sure). So my case is often overpacked, bulging and HEAVY.

Today is no different, travelling back after a fortnights interim, I have substantially more washing than usual, so I lost dismally at my luggage rack game.

Clocking how full it was when I boarded, I thought I'd try my luck with the overhead storage above my seat (epic fail).

So I did the walk of shame back down the carriage to the packed luggage rack and found a spot for my case... Right on the top shelf.

I'm not the tallest of girls but my weedy little arms just reach the top rail. When I'm laden with a heavy case however, I manage this with considerable difficulty.

Not one person offered to help.

After struggling with 4 or 5 feeble attempts to wedge my case into the Tetris pile of bags, eventually, a hand reached out from behind me and provided the last vital shove I needed to secure my little spot.

I beamed at the man behind me and thanked him for his help as I ran off back to my seat next to the bearded man.

He looked confused though... Not entirely sure it was he who helped.

Oh well!

Homeward bound again.

L x

Permanence.

So last week I went off on a little tangent and ranted about a digger who had moved onto the patch of wasteland, directly outside my flat window.

Sadly I can report that the bugger is there to stay, and he's brought some friends along.

Scoop, muck and dizzy... Roly too...

Yes, Bob the Builder has moved in next door to start work on a shiny new skyscraper. Oh the joys.

They haven't given me too much hassle thus far, and I even stayed in Leeds over the weekend all on my own to go to York races with some colleagues.

I'm getting so brave.

If you can excuse the horrific cliche, it's been a bit of a rollercoaster so far. This whole thing came about in such insane circumstances, I still sometimes catch myself disbelieving I've actually done it.

After a particularly nasty, heart wrenching break up, I ditched my country pub job I loved, in favour of a fresh start at a new pub closer to home (in Newcastle) which incidentally, I ended up hating.

After a particularly awful shift, I kind of lost the plot and applied for about 20 jobs across the country.

One got back to me.

After a written assessment, email correspondence and a nerve-wracking interview, I landed my job in Leeds and moved my whole life 110 miles down the A1.

The whole thing was quite whimsical and half-baked really. Some would say "spontaneous"... Personally I think I was just having a not-quite-quarter-life-crisis.

Despite the challenges I've faced being away from home, I've really learned to stand on my own two feet here, so I can't honestly say I regret a second of it.

However, when I took the job, in my head (because it was a short term contract for an internship), there was no finality or permanence in my move here.

But now it's looking like I could be here to stay.

Although the company hasn't exactly thrown contracts at me and begged me to sign, it's looking pretty likely that there will be a full time position available to me at the end of my internship if I want it.

Of course, there is time yet to make a decision but wow... Even having the option has completely blown my mind!

I'm just thinking out loud here really... 

L x