My iPhone is better dressed than me.

The title of this blog entry will probably work quite well for my inevitable memoirs in thirty years time, as I imagine it will still be true then. My iPhone case has bunny ears and a pom pom tail, a look which I can only acceptably sport on Halloween, which is devastating. Today I am wearing summer dress and what I think is a mans cardigan. Sexy. And perfect for a rain sodden September. 

When I wrote for the style section of my university magazine, I had to go around the town hunting out stylish people and taking their photo in a very non perverted way I promise. And they always said 'Oh I just grabbed this dress/top/jumpsuit out of my wardrobe.' And I would think, if I just grabbed something out of my wardrobe I would most likely go out wearing a fancy dress costume or some tea splattered dress with several holes. It takes me a good two days to work on an outfit that makes me look like I've made no effort at all. Me and my friend have always said that if we were boys, we'd be the best dressed boys in the country, which is little comfort when I'm having a breakdown in my wardrobe at 6pm on a Friday night because I have nothing to wear and might as well never set foot outside my house again. 

One of my best friend turned 22 this week, and got a proper grown up job in London which makes me very happy, but annoyed that she is 22. Which is a ridiculous age. It's our 'Friendship Anniversary' soon, it's been ten years, which means it's TIN. Tinned ravioli for our romantic dinner a go go. Considering my lack of clothes I might just come dressed as the tin man for continuity purposes. 

Love, 

L x

Home Birds

Me and my friends who have finished university/who didn't go to university have decided to join forces into some form of non-criminal fighting league called the 'Home Birds'. Essentially we write down different exercise classes in our immediate areas, promise we'll go there forever and ever, where in reality we all know we'll turn up for one class, eat chips from the gym canteen afterwards and never return. If we do return it will only be to eat chips. Although me and my friend are going to Zumba tonight in the local primary school, and thanks to Jamie Oliver there will be no chips there, which is good.

I remember once at primary school when coming back from swimming we stopped at the local McDonalds, and our teachers bought us all chips, which was very kind of them, but ultimately very irresponsible. 

Other activities us Home Birds are planning on include 'Come Dine With Me', 'Book Club' and 'Film Night'. We are now essentially middle aged people in young peoples bodies. I'm a bit fearful of Book Club really, I only read about 30% of my English books at university, and there was a degree involved there. It has just occurred to me that all of these activities will definitely involve wine. So there we are. Middle aged alcoholics who don't fight crime. 

I am being excused from Home Bird activity tomorrow (pasta bake round the lovely Anje's house) because I am volunteering at the Maggie's London Night Hike, I interned there in the events team over the summer, so that should be lovely. I'm taking my back pack to ensure I look extra cool. 

So off I go to find a suitable zumba outfit. I remember once buying neon leg warmers from Claire's Accessories. Awesome. 

Love, 

L x

Only just the beginning

I am quite disheartened to discover that it is now September, which as sixteen years of schooling has taught me, means Summer is now officially over, the ominous 'Back to School' signs which litter Marks&Spencer and John Lewis are starting to be taken down, feeble promises of the 'Best Summer of Our Lives' have been proven to have been just average independent film tag lines and the traditional march back to education resumes. 

Except this time, there is no education, there is no fretting around Staples with my mother, trying to convince her that I do desperately need the heart shaped Post-It notes, which are twice the price of the frankly incredibly depressing normal square shaped ones, there is no drive back up to University, realising half way there that I have left my DVD remote back home in my bedroom (where it will stay for the remainder of the year). No, this September is the first September where there is no more formal education in front of me. This September, I am a graduate. 

In fact, whilst I am writing this, I can see from my watch that at this exact point last week I was in the ground of Lincoln Castle, being robed by a very nice man and trying not to break my neck in my amazing yet foolish five inch electric blue wedges. My graduation was wonderful, not least because the University of Lincoln colours are pretty similar to Ravenclaw's (my official house on Pottermore, form an orderly que gentlemen) or because contrary to many opinions, I did not fall or walk the wrong way around the Cathedral, it was because I finally had a decent Facebook profile picture to replace the one that I had been using for nearly two months. The fact that I could graduate with my two flatmates, I was able to stand with all of my friends in one of the most beautiful places in the country and that I had really accomplished something was also pretty damn good. 

I have just finished my degree in Film&Television and English, and am now beginning the wavy, hilly, unsteady road to employment and life fulfilment. So whilst I bang on doors and beg people in the comedy and charity industries to just glance over my CV, I shall be blogging my progress and the many cakes I plan to bake for therapeutic grounds. There may also be some photography and fashiony things if that isn't gripping enough. 

Love 

L x