Murder, she wrote.

Many people may mock my hometown of Blyth. It once was named the drugs capital of the UK and it has won the prestigious accolade of "worst town in Northumberland" many times over (God knows how with Ashington next door!) but even so, Blyth is starting to look tame compared to Leeds.

In previous posts, I have alluded to Headingley as studentville, which it is. I have also made no secret of the fact that I have some nightmare next door neighbours, on both sides.

But what makes ugly house even more desirable as a place to call home, (please note the intended sarcasm) is the street in which it resides.

Good old Richmond Mount.

Richmond Mount makes Coronation Street look like a serene suburb in Pleasantville.

So far we have had wild house parties til 5am on a Monday, students playing football in the back street at 3am, domestics, door slamming, students weeing against our front wall, a screaming fit in the small hours which resulted in a visit from the police, a burglary, and now, a drugs bust.

Not just a few little suspicious pot plants kind of drugs bust either, like a full on Pineapple Express style operation lock down that Seth Rogan would have been proud of.

On our daily wanders to the bus stop, ugmate Kate and I had noticed the distinct smell of weed in the air as we passed the house on the corner of the street, but living in studentville, we never thought anything of it.

Yesterday when I came in from work, there were police vans and men in white boiler suits everywhere, wandering in and out of said house on the corner.

I genuinely thought there must have been a murder.

But then today, ugmate Kate sent me this...

So now we know what's really gone down!

Twitter is such a reliable source of information.

The funny thing is, I'm not shocked or bothered. The drama that seems to happen nightly in this street is becoming a source of entertainment in my sad little full-time working life.

Also, anywhere that makes Blyth look better, is fine by me!

#thuglife

L x

Crow's Feet.

I've had one of those funny little days today where a number of things have made me very conscious of getting older.

Obviously, I'm getting older all of the time. I'm getting older as I'm typing this... But even so.

It all started this morning on the wander to the bus stop with ugmate Kate. 

"Did you hear about Deirdre Barlow dying?"

"Eeeeh God yeah, she was only 60 as well, it's no age."

At which point Kate started mocking me for my retro turn of phrase, it's no age. I reasoned that if Deirdre had have been older, the news would be just as sad, just slightly less shocking.

60 is no age. My Dad turns 55 on Friday, that's getting close to 60, and my Dad is probably cooler than me.

Scratch that, he's definitely cooler than me!

It's funny that while I accept that I'm getting older (yet no wiser), I HATE the thought that my parents are ageing with me.

Them getting older is just somehow more monumental, even though I rarely remember how old they are anyway.

My next landmark birthday will be 25... And then 30... Which is where mine and Kate's bus stop conversation turned next, hitting the big 3-0.

In my head as a teenager, 30 was years away, 30 year olds were ancient, past it, over the hill. 

I also thought that by age 30, I would be settled down with a house and a decent job, maybe even a family.

Now that hill is on the horizon, I'm thinking very differently.

I might not be near enough to start climbing it yet, but it's there, and it will come around quicker than I think.

My next wake up call arrived whilst sat watching TV this evening. The film 500 Days of Summer came on, and Kate said: "Don't they look young!?" watching that bit where Joseph Gordon Levitt and Zooey Dechanel are getting all cosy in the car.

That film was made in 2009... That doesn't even seem that long ago. I was 17 in 2009 with the world at my feet, now I'm worrying about crows feet.

This is madness right?!

I'm still a 5 year old on the inside. It's currently snowing in Leeds and I'm praying work gets cancelled tomorrow so I can go and build a snowman on Woodhouse Moor.

Fingers crossed the buses go on strike!

L x

The House Project.

I'm officially into my fourth week as a resident of the ugly house. 

In addition to my original ugmates (yes, we're coining that!) Kate and Josh, we now have a fourth ugmate Laura who has become my next door neighbour, so I no longer have a floor to myself, which is kinda nice!

It's taking a bit of time, but I feel like I might be starting to settle in. The only thing that is REALLY going to make me start calling ugly house "home" is finally sorting out my room.

BANG.

It's really something isn't it?

It's too blue to be true (if you can pardon the terrible pun). Who the hell thought THAT was a good colour for a bedroom wall!?

In all honesty, I got off lightly in comparison to some of the other rooms in the house. We have a room which is green and orange, and another which is dark purple with a dark green tiled fireplace, now commonly known amongst the ugmates as "The Joker's" room where the WiFi lives.

Are you starting to picture the grand scale of the ugliness of ugly house?

It really is a beaut.

The wall isn't exactly giving me sleepless nights like the students next door, but the whole room could do with a little TLC to help it feel like mine.

So I've been shopping!

Now I'm no DIY queen, and I'm more at home in stilettos than up a step ladder, but I'm gonna give this a whirl.

My mission is to paint one wall a night this week, starting with just plain white to cover the blue then adding the colour. Apparently that's how the pros do it!

I'll make an interior design guru out of me yet! I may just need all the luck in the world not to fall on my face in my tray of emulsion...

Project de-blue is a go-go!

L x