Solitude

“Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.”
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I've had the intention of writing this post for some time now, but with humanity little by little stepping into isolation in a way reminiscent of a dystopian movie, this post is oddly on topic.

Perhaps it's isolation that gave me the time and mental space to sit down and write this. I'm on my third day of isolation, at a time when I want to be out enjoying spring and meeting friends and embracing life in a city where I haven't quite settled yet. But truthfully, I spent most of the winter in isolation.

Last September I reached a milestone, something which I always expected to happen earlier in life (at least before the age of 29), but life went down a different road. At an age when I expected to be married and a mother, instead my milestone was a rite of passage that I always longed to do before I had a family of my own: I moved into an apartment, by myself.

I hear some people don't like the idea of living alone, but for me it was always something I wanted to do, to spend a while living completely independently, with space to myself for reading and writing and creating, a space with my own mark on it. And while my mum asks every weekend if I'm going to go out and socialise, the truth is that after a busy week working with people it's nice to embrace the solitude, and I like to spend time in my home and enjoy my own company. It's a place where I can truly relax, take my time and recharge. If I want to eat dinner for breakfast and cake for dinner then I can. If I want to go out after work, nothing is stopping me. If I want to walk around wearing a ridiculous face mask, dance to cheese and sing terribly, there is no one to pass judgement. And if I want to write a blog post at one o'clock on a Tuesday morning, I can also do that.

Another thing people ask is “have you got a boyfriend yet?” But when I tell them that no, I don't want that right now, a lot of people look at me weird. I spent the larger part of a decade in and out of relationships, and while I am lucky to have shared some wonderful experiences with partners, right now I don't want to share my time or my space with another person. It's nice to just be me and do my own thing. Occasionally the thought of dating crosses my mind, and then when I think about how much time and effort I'd have to put in, I'm just not interested. Sure, relationships are nice, but I'm not ready for that again, not yet. And as someone who was always “in a relationship” or had just got out of a relationship, or was “with someone”, it's refreshing to have freedom to go where I want and do what I want, or just stay in.

When I look around my apartment, I see me. I see what I've worked for, what I've created. I see my tastes and the things I like. And I enjoy spending time here and getting to know myself. So while I'm on day 3 of isolation and a bit worried about being cut off from people for the next week, or maybe two, or three, I am also looking on the bright side. Being alone can be lonely, but it is also the perfect opportunity to connect with yourself, to know yourself and to do things that you can't do with another person present. And at the age of 29 I'm glad I'm finally able to do this thing for myself, before I no longer have the chance to do things for myself.

Stay safe and embrace the solitude, friends, because spending time with yourself can be the best way to get to know You.

Thanks for reading.

Berlin, Germany, March 2020

New Year's Resolution: Continue being AWESOME

This time last year, I was looking forward to what 2018 was going to bring. I had just gone through a big change in my life, I was suddenly on my own, and my future was entirely mine to do what I wanted with it. 2018 was going to be my year.

Fast-forward 12 months. In a physical sense I'm not quite in the place I wanted to be in. But that's okay. Just because I'm not where I hoped I would be, doesn't mean I haven't moved forward. I have grown in so many ways, and looking back at the list of resolutions I made when I was going through my healing, I know I fulfilled each and every one in more ways than I could have imagined. Here's a little re-cap of the promises I made to myself last year...

- Focus on self-love.

We all need to do this more. This year, I've put myself first. My confidence and self-esteem have grown so much, and now I have an abundance of both of these qualities that I've never had before.


- Bloom where you are planted.

I've made the best of the situation I am in. I don't like where I'm living, and I'm longing for the day when I can move elsewhere, but that doesn't mean that I've let that longing get the better of me. I am grateful for who I've become and what I've achieved while I've been rooted in one place, rather than being "stuck in a rut".


- Look nice and take selfies.

This seems like a silly one, and I know physical appearance isn't everything, but as someone who had low-self esteem (and I didn't realise how low it was at the time), I encouraged myself to make an effort with my appearance and take photos of myself whenever I felt like I looked nice. Dropping a dress size and fitting back into my old skinny jeans helped with the self-esteem boost as well!


- Get in touch with your wild woman.

Yep, I read Women Who Run With The Wolves a couple of years ago and it changed my way of thinking. A way of thinking that has helped me to stay strong, be fierce and build my confidence. I've blasted girl power tunes every morning and thanks to them I have fought to be the best in my job, kept myself walking the right path and beaten away the final dregs of old heartbreaks.


- Start afresh but remember how far you've come.

Treating the past 12-14 months like a rebirth has been the greatest way to turn my life around. I am doing the things I should have done ten years ago. But I'm not going to let myself regret the mistakes I made, because I wouldn't have learnt from them if I hadn't made them. I'm embracing the girls I used to be and examining my "flaws" to see how I can make the best of them now that I have new perspective. I am so full of positivity and hope for the future, I know it's going to be an incredible one.


My 2019 resolutions? Well, I did so well in 2018, I can only stay on the same track and continue being awesome.

I hope this new year is beautiful, inspiring and full of amazing experiences and achievements for everyone <3 Wirral, UK, January 2019

Morning Mantras

My last post was about healing and achievements and confidence, and I'm pleased to say that things have only gone uphill since then. The achievements I talked about in my last post were a huge turning point for me. I surprised myself at how well I was doing, and did things I never thought I could do, and these achievements have given me such a huge confidence boost that I feel like I can do anything I set my mind to. But it's not all plain sailing. There are days when I don't want to get up early, don't want to go to work, don't feel like making an effort. I've got to be honest, I'm not a morning person and I spend most days wishing it were a Sunday where I can have a lie in and stay in with a cup of tea and a good book. But part of my confidence boost has involved a morning ritual where, by the time I arrive at work, I'm not only ready to face the day, but I'm determined to smash it. And since this has worked for me, I wanted to write this post in the hope that someone might take something away with them that would make their daily grind more positive and productive.

Most mornings I start my day by mentally swearing at my alarm clock. Some days I might even swear at it out loud. Admittedly, it's not the most graceful or positive way to start the day, and I would love to be one of those people who wakes up with a smile on their face or meditates or does yoga. I'm afraid I'm not that serene, but maybe I will be someday! I proceed to grumble through the next hour as I get ready, and grumble at the bus which never seems to arrive at a time that suits me. But once I'm on that bus, my positivity ritual begins. And this ritual is something so simple: music. I listen to whatever my mood fancies at first, and then once I get to my destination, I have to wait around for half an hour before I can go into work. So I walk, and on my walk, I play my positivity playlist. Some are "can do" songs. Others are simply upbeat tunes. My favourites are girl power anthems (feminist alert, we can do it, girls!). But one song has helped me most of all. It's an old song, one I never really identified with much in the past. You'll know it. It's Titanium by David Guetta, featuring Sia. I first started listening to this song on a day when I really wasn't feeling great. The previous day someone had really tried to put me down and make me feel small, and I was taking it to heart. But then that song came up randomly on shuffle and it was like I grew a second skin, or should we say armour? I reminded myself what I have achieved, what I can do, and I was determined that I was going to have a damn good day and I was going to continue to be awesome and continue to achieve great things.

Titanium is my morning mantra. I am titanium. I am, and I will keep telling myself that. Your song might be something else, or your mantra might not even be musical. It could be a quote, or a poem, or even just a word or a state of mind. It's hard to be good to ourselves and tell ourselves that we're great and strong and we can do incredible things. It's hard to love ourselves. But it's important that we do, because at the end of the day it's the voice in our mind that we listen to. Teach that voice to tell us positive things, and don't let outside influences affect your confidence and your abilities in a negative way.

Find your mantra. Find your morning ritual that is going to help you to be confident and do great things. You can do it, you've got this <3

Wirral, UK, July 2018

Healing

Dear little blog. It's been a while, hasn't it? My life has changed quite a bit since my last post. I won't go into the story, but what I can say is that I've healed from some very old wounds, and for the first time in a long time, I feel so, so happy. Life isn't exactly where I want it to be, but that's okay, because the most important thing is that I'm on the right path, and I'm feeling so much more content thanks to that fact.

Feeling healed is like coming up for air when you've stayed under water too long, or like stepping outside on a crisp, sunny morning when you've been shut up indoors for a long time. There are still days when those old wounds creep up and remind me that they're still there, giving me aches and pains. Guilt, regret, the occasional stab of bitterness... but they're old wounds, old scars that may or may not fade, and when I can focus so easily on the positives, those negative feelings are becoming easier and easier to ignore.

But there's a special reason I really wanted to write this post. I want to talk about achievements, and about surprising yourself when you discover that you have abilities and strength that you never knew you had. When you're hurting and unhappy for a long time, it's like you don't really know yourself. You forget who you are, forget your path, and forget the person you told yourself you would become when you were innocent and believed that your dreams would come true. Suddenly, when I finally came up for air and blinked the water from my eyes, I could see the woman I've become. I could see that I have passion, and drive, and that I'm braver than I realised. I can do things that as a school girl I always wished I could do, and believed I never could. I'm the person I wanted to be, and so much more. And while I'm not in the place that school girl me thought I would reach by my late twenties, I'm on my way there, and that's the most important thing.

These past months have been challenging but surprising, and this week especially I've achieved things that I never thought I could achieve, and this has caused me to reflect on how far I've come. I've blown my mind with the things I've done this week and these past months, and to some people those might not seem like big things, but to me they're huge leaps that I didn't realise I was brave enough to take. I've surprised myself so much with my abilities and achievements that I'm wondering who I am and how I've done it. But the truth is, while I've been hurting and healing, the woman I am now has always been somewhere deep inside me, working hard and absorbing knowledge and developing new ideas and abilities that are now stepping into the light.

There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. I know that now. And if you are where I was, stay strong and believe in yourself. You will make it through and you will be surprised and overjoyed to meet the person you are going to become.

Sending love and healing vibes,
Naomi

Wirral, UK, April 2018

When the world gets too loud

When I'm in the middle of uni assignments and other pressing matters, I find myself turning off the WIFI on my phone more and more consistently. Otherwise, when a Facebook notification comes through while I'm trying to concentrate on an essay, I'm likely to let it distract me. But I'm starting to think that it's not only when I have an essay that I should be turning off the Internet. You see, my phone is almost constantly in my hand, and I switch from app to social media site to app, wasting time and brain space on things that don't really interest me.

Don't get me wrong, social media has its virtues. As someone who has travelled a lot and spent time studying abroad, Facebook keeps me in touch with people I can only see once in a blue moon, Twitter tends to be a place where I can keep up to date with more specific topics, while Instagram, Tumblr and the like serve to feed my creativity. But when these sites and apps are constantly clamouring to be heard, and habit leads me to give them my attention despite other more pressing needs and desires, it becomes a problem.

Our phones and technology are so insistent that we remain up to date and in the know that, without turning off our phones or spending time changing our settings, we can't escape notifications. I've wasted many an hour or two when a five minute social media check turned into a discussion or a conversation about something inane. When those discussions are more heated, I waste a lot of energy thinking about them even after I've left my phone alone. Yes, it's important to be up to date with the news and the goings on in the world around us and to take part in that, but it should be on our own terms and at times when we feel ready to listen. The likes of Facebook in particular are the biggest killers of my productivity, creativity, even my desire to relax or spend time with loved ones, and this has to change.

It's not just the fact that it's a distraction. I think these habits can also be partially to blame for many of the mental health issues that sneak up in us nowadays. The thing with the Internet, and with social media especially, is that we suddenly have all this information and all these connections at the tips of our fingers, and if you think about it, we are the first generation to have that. Because of this, there is a lot of noise entering our minds that humans never had to deal with in the past, and unless we refrain from using the Internet as often as we do, it's impossible to shut it out. To give an example, let's talk about news pieces like Brexit and the election of the latest US president (to avoid mentioning his name). During those times, I was almost constantly emotionally exhausted, stressed and bordering on depressed. Yes, I was unhappy about the news. But if something upsets us, normally we shut it out if we can, except that without isolating myself from all media and news outlets, I couldn't shut it out. Even when I tried, it would come up in conversation, and then I felt like I needed to get "up to date". Many, many times in the past year I have felt like becoming a hermit. Back in the day, it was easy to switch the TV channel or close the newspaper. But now, when our lives are so intricately intertwined with the Internet and, by extension, the world around us, it's difficult to close ourselves off. Even while watching a TV programme, the channel encourages us to engage in social media while we watch, urging us to use and search for certain hashtags.

So if you feel like social media is taking over your life, don't be afraid to withdraw. At first I feel isolated, or anxious that I might have missed something important. But eventually I realise that I appreciate the quiet time, with my own mind and my tangible life.

Hampshire, UK, April 2017

Summer isn't over, yet.

Cue rant.

This year, I've been working in a school. In the UK, the school holidays don't begin until the last week of July (which is ridiculous, but that's another rant for another day). So, while I managed to enjoy a spot of good weather when the sun deigned to shine on days I wasn't working, my summer didn't officially start until it was almost August. Which would be all fine and dandy, if I could actually enjoy it in peace instead of being constantly told that summer is practically over.

Case number one:
When I went shopping for swimwear for my long awaited trip to Spain in MID-JULY, only one high street shop still had a decent stock of bikinis. The rest of the shops I visited had racks of odd tops and bottoms, mostly in sizes that would barely cover a twelve year old's breasts, never mind mine.

Case number two:
Those same shops already had their "Autumn Collection" in. I repeat, it was JULY. And I'm pretty sure stationery shops and the likes of George at Asda crack out the "Back To School" rubbish before the kids have even finished school nowadays.

Case number three:
Not just the shops, but the media are telling me that summer is over, and people I follow on Instagram can't wait for Autumn (which is fine, but could you, you know, not remind me so often that after summer comes gloomy days and colder, wetter weather?) Well let me tell you, media, summer is not over. Where I used to live (Spain) August happens to be the hottest month of the year. And that's when everyone goes on their SUMMER holiday.

Last year, I wrote a blog post about how I found it hard to accept Autumn's arrival (even though I love all the colours, fashion and tasty things it brings once I finally embrace it). In the post, I explained how I'm a spring-summer kid, and I love it when the sunshine arrives with its warmer weather. So when I have the message being thrown at me from all sides that summer is over before it's begun, it doesn't make for a very happy me.

Some time ago, I read an article about how the media and the shopping industry  basically wish our life away, to the point where we're living in a constant panic to get things done. I'm already seing restaurants urging me to make reservations for Christmas, and the Christmas shopping season will start pretty much as soon as September arrives (barely squeezing in Halloween). I, for one, constantly feel like I'm being left behind, and I remember last year being convinced for a moment I was still in September when it was, in fact, November.

Once upon a time I was sheltered from this sped up passage of time. Now, thanks to the internet and shopping, I can't hide from it. I want to live in the moment, in peace, without someone or something urging me to get on with the next big event of the year. I don't want to see hot cross buns and Easter Eggs in the shops on the 1st of January, when Easter isn't until March/April. I don't want to think about Valentine's Day until February. I don't want to buy my swimsuits in March and my winter coats in August. I would like to have the option of buying and eating pumpkins for the duration that they are in season, not just for Halloween, and I don't want to be urged to make Christmas plans in the summer.

So, shops, media, et al: summer is not over yet. Stop trying to convince me otherwise.

Hampshire, UK, August 2016

Simple Pleasures

Life lately has been a bit... meh. I don't like my job, I'm still having trouble finding friends in the place I moved to six months ago, and I'm constantly frustrated by tiredness and a lack of time to dedicate to things I especially enjoy (blogging among them!) But even though I'm constantly "living for the weekend" and counting down the days until the end of my job, I have to keep reminding myself to see the positives and grab the happy moments. So rather than having a rant, I thought it was time I made a list of all the little, beautiful moments I come across each day.

Pockets of sunshine:
The weather has been up and down this summer, but when it's beautiful I'm sure you can all agree how depressing it is to be cooped up in a stuffy building for eight precious, sunny hours each day. But thankfully the days are also longer, so I grab that sunshine whenever I can. In the mornings on my way to work, on the way home, and either sitting on my balcony (this is a nice novelty indeed) or in the back bedroom which gets the evening sun. It's not much, but what little I get certainly puts me in a better mood :)

Natural beauty:
I know it sounds like a bit of a cliché, but when I spend all day in a gloomy work place the beauty I see on the way to and from work or through the windows really does cheer me up and gives me a little something to wonder at each day. What with the blossom turning into every shade of rich, full green, the appearance of flowers, the way the morning sky looks on a sunny day (or even a grey day), I have enough inspiration to paint several paintings if I had the time (and half the talent) to do so.

A big cup of tea:
My post-work ritual this year so far has been to make a nice strong tea in a good sized mug (I bought several of those large Cath Kidston mugs for this very reason) and to put my feet up for half an hour (or longer, if I have time) with a good book. My go-to tea for this purpose has been Hampshire Tea, which is a blend of Assam from All About Tea in Southsea (if you're a local tea lover and you don't know about this shop yet, you need to check it out). And, as mentioned earlier, if the sun's out this ritual is that much more blissful.

Books:
I mentioned in my last post that we've finally acquired a pair of bookcases, and I've got to be honest, few material objects make me happier. I know I'm a bibliophile when just the sight of all my books together on their shelves make me feel good, seeing all those adventures I've lived and all the new stories just waiting to be discovered. And book-buying has also become quite a regular thing, although that's not so great for my bank account :o

Spinnaker Tower:
For those of you who aren't familiar with Portsmouth, Spinnaker Tower is a tall, sail-inspired landmark that can be seen from quite a way away. To me, it's a symbol of a city I grew to love when I studied at Portsmouth University, and since we've moved back to the area, I was chuffed to find that we can see the Tower from the balcony of our new apartment. It's comforting to be able to see it every day, and I always feel a tinge of nostalgia and affection. I've done so much moving around throughout my life, but Portsmouth is still one of my (many) homes.

Coffee dates:
I once said that no weekend is complete without a trip to a tea/coffee shop, and maybe a piece of cake. For some reason, my partner and I don't seem to do this as often as we used to, but it's still a pastime I love, and it's an extra special treat on the off-chance we get to do this on a week day after work. Combining tasty things, a nice atmosphere and good company is a great way to while away some minutes and have a good old catch up.

Home:
Six months after moving, I expected my home to be how I want it by now. But it turns out that "decorating" is taking longer than expected. We took on a furnished rental apartment, and while the furniture is nice, it's just not really me. Nevertheless, I've managed to combine the minimalistic vibe the furniture demands with hints of the brighter colours and art styles I enjoy. It's slowly coming together, and while I still have pictures to put up because I have yet to borrow/acquire a drill (so adult), it's finally starting to feel like my home (and when it's technically my first home, it means so much more). So it's those little objects and details that are "me" that make my home all the more lovely to spend time in, whether it's the pictures I collected over the years, little ornaments and stationery items, or the likes of bedding and cushions that are mine (I sound like a fussy old lady, hehe). As of a couple of weekends ago, I also now have my collection of crystals dotted about, and whether or not they do have special vibes or powers, the flat certainly feels more positive, and I finally feel like we've landed, like this is our home.

So if you're in a similar situation and you find yourself living for the weekend, just remind yourself of the little things :)

Hampshire, UK, June 2016

Reading Material

We all have dreams, right? This is a bit silly, but one of my dreams from a young age was to have my own bookcase. This seems like a simple thing to want, but somehow we never had the space for me to have my own bookcase growing up.

A short while ago, my simple dream became a reality. I've been living with the future Mr for almost a year now (has it really been that long?) and we finally made that trip to Ikea to get a couple of their 7ft tall (ginormous!) bookcases. My behaviour, from going to Ikea to getting the furniture delivered and built, was that of a kid in a sweet shop. All my beautiful books, which have lived in boxes, wardrobes or split between my new home and my parents' place, now finally have their own home, where I can look at them, have them readily available and order how I please. A bibliophile's dream come true, right?

I read the usual books as a child, especially fantasy: Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Narnia, and of course, Harry Potter, which quite honestly changed my life. Following on from Harry, I sought out books to fill that Harry-sized hole, but eventually I fell into a reading slump. I had reached that awkward age where I felt too old for kid's books but thought that adult books must be boring. Perhaps now, with the abundance of YA on the shelves, things would have been different, but instead, my studies and my discovery of the internet took up most of my time.

Over a period of two or three years, the most riveting thing I read happened to be Twilight, until the final book of the series put me off for life. There was a stream of half-read books, pulp fiction that people told me to read, and books that had been given to me but that I just didn't bother with. Suddenly, the girl who loved to read had become a listless eighteen year old too interested in watching bad TV shows. I felt like I'd lost a big part of who I was.

It was in my final year at university when a chain of events took place that led me to want to rediscover myself and my interests, and the reader in me made a vow to finish every book I picked up, and that I would read all of the so-called classics. There were just too many lists of "books to read before you die" for me to carry on without delving deeper into the world of literature. And do you know what? Four years later there have only been two books I have abandoned. It's not a bad knock.

I also managed to put my time-wasting on the internet to good use. Tumblr turned out to be a good way to discover new reading material, as the sort of people I followed were fond of reblogging literary quotes and poetry, and discussed great literature regularly. My shelves gradually filled up with everything from the Brontës to the Beat Generation. Some books I liked, some I was indifferent to, some I absolutely adored. I have such a long reading list of books that have stood the test of time that it's difficult for me to incorporate more recently released works, but I managed to squeeze in a spot of YA along the way (The Hunger Games and The Fault in our Stars were perhaps the best, and the sort of books that can still appeal to someone who no longer takes much interest in teen fiction). I've probably only made a dent in the "books to read before you die", both classics and more modern treasures, but I can certainly say that my collection is slowly growing and great novels have been ticked off my list. So if you're in a similar situation to what I was in a few years ago, take a trip to your local thrift store and pick up a few books that catch your eye, or else check out bookish social media sites such as Goodreads (or Tumblr, or Pinterest, or search hashtags like #bookstagram over on Instagram). You may be surprised by what you find and be able to kickstart your reading habits again.

Happy reading :)

Hampshire, UK, May 2016

Valentine, be mine.

We've heard all the excuses: "Valentine's Day is too commercialised", "I don't need one day of the year to show someone I love them, I do it all the time", "it's not fair on the singles", "it's a waste of money", etc. But while I can agree with (some of) those statements, I don't think that's a reason to not celebrate Valentine's Day.

It may just be hopeless romantic, in a relationship, me, but I both love Valentine's Day and I believe it should be celebrated, even if the day is marked by something as simple as giving cards (even handmade ones, they're the best) and spending time with the person you love, whether that's a candlelit dinner or a completely free stroll on the beach or in a park. There are a million ways to celebrate Valentine's without pouring away your money, and unless there is some important commitment or an issue of distance, there is no reason why you shouldn't spend the day with your loved one (and hey, the cost of a card and a postage stamp is only around £2!) And what about the singles, you say? Well, why not use the occasion to let that person who has stolen your heart know how you feel about them? And if there is no one, well, did you know that in Finland Valentine's Day is known as Friend's Day? The first Valentine's letter, sent from St Valentine himself on the day of his execution, was for a friend who had comforted him in his final hours, after all. (If you don't know the story of St Valentine, he was a priest in Roman times who performed forbidden marriages. You can't get more romantic than that!) So arrange to meet your fellow single friend, write them a card about how awesome they are, take some flowers, chocs, sweets, or whatever you think they'll love and spend an evening watching great movies, cooking together, having a natter... the possibilities are endless.

And to those of you who don't think you need one day of the year to show that person how much you love them, well, here is the reason why, above all, I love Valentine's Day: it's the one day of the year when I'm surrounded by people openly showing their affection, whether that's on social media or in public. Seeing the things couples (and friends) are doing for/with each other makes me feel all gooey and puts my faith back into love and romance.

So don't be cynical today. Show your loved ones how much they mean to you, ask out that special someone, call up your best friend. There's a lot of love in the world, and even if it is shared all year round, this is the one day of the year I can truly see it and appreciate it.

Happy Valentine's Day, you beautiful people <3 Hampshire, UK, February 2016

Dreams for plans

It's that time of year when everyone is posting reviews of how their year has gone, and when it came to deciding what to write for my final post of 2015, I thought I would do the same. In fact, I felt obliged, but every time I considered it, it felt like a chore. A lot has happened this year, a lot of amazing, beautiful memories have been made, but I have also learned some valuable lessons, and one of them is to stop living in the past.

It's something I've done for a long time, looking back, and while I will continue to make a record of good moments and memories, I've also let the bad memories come back to haunt me too. There is always something I want to change or take back, but it's time I stopped thinking that way. I need to stop looking behind me, which is why I will be entering 2016 looking forward, making plans and living dreams and living in the moment with my loved ones.

So we'll get the review out of the way in a nice quick summary, a little paragraph where I tell you just how special 2015 has been to me. I spent the first half of it in Hamburg, Germany, fulfilling the little dream I was working towards since the first time I went to Germany back in 2011. I met some wonderful people (many of whom will surely be friends for life), learnt some beautiful and valuable life lessons and built up my German to the point where I now feel confident I can use it in a job. In the second part of the year I did a lot of moving around, but most importantly, I moved in with my partner, discovered a new city which I was very sad to leave, learnt I'm actually not that bad at cooking and worked a great deal on my writing. Before I knew it, September rolled around, and I ticked another dream off my bucket list with a visit to the Alhambra Palace in Granada, combined with a beautiful, relaxing holiday by the sea, where a certain somebody popped a certain question. I fell in love all over again, moved back to the place where I went to university (which also happens to be my fiancé's hometown) and launched into Christmas preparations. We bought our first Christmas tree (I'm like a kid at Christmas) and had a little fake Christmas on which I cooked a Christmas dinner I'm pretty proud of. And now, after spending Christmas itself with my family, I'm looking forward to welcoming the new year with all my nearest and dearest.

2016 has so much to offer. My new year's resolution is to get back into painting (I replenished my oils stock a few days ago with my Christmas money) and to continue work on my latest novel (and hopefully finish editing my last one). In April I am planning to revisit Hamburg and all the lovely people I met there. I am starting a new job at the end of January which will hopefully, finally be a step in the direction of the career I want and later in the year I will hopefully be ticking yet another item off the bucket list and having my dream trip around Italy. The planning for that holiday starts next week. Aside from that, we have a wedding to plan and money to save, and while I admit I buried my head in the sand for a while during the house move, it's definitely time to get the ball rolling on that front.

So I have a new year, a new home and a new job, basically, a whole fresh start. I have friends new and old to get in touch with and trips to go on and a life to plan, but I'll remember to leave room for plenty of spontaneity as well (in my experience, that's when the best memories are made). And I will stop looking back.

Happy New Year to you all!
Out with the old and in with the new :)

Hampshire, UK, December 2015

NaNoWriMo - an overview of November 2015

My last post here was just before I dived into NaNoWriMo which, along with moving house and leaving my job, took over my November. You may recall how excited I was to get started, to begin writing a story that had been bubbling away in the background for years and to revisit characters I loved and didn't want to lose. Well, that excitement produced a nice, fat 6,404 words on November 1st, a NaNoWriMo first day personal best. I stayed two or three days ahead of target for the first two weeks, which is just as well as the stress of moving plus a couple of unforeseen obstacles set me back. Towards the end of the month, two five-hour-long train journeys between Liverpool and Portsmouth got me back on track, and I finished nicely with just over 50,000 on November 30th.

But I'm not writing this post to talk about my word count, even if this has been the nicest, easiest Nano I've done so far (not to mention the quickest, where did that month go??). Instead, I'd like to talk about some of the things I've learnt through winning Nano a 4th time, and this time it's after I've successfully finished a first draft of an earlier work in progress and moved on to the editing process.

In the past, I always stuck to the traditional values of NaNoWriMo: write something, anything, lock away your inner editor, unleash your creativity, get those words out and onto the page. Most importantly, in fact, get those words out. Write your 50,000. It doesn't matter how you get there. While I agree that in some cases sticking to these values is enjoyable and surprising (you never know what your imagination is going to produce when working to such a tight deadline), thinking this way has also let me down in the past, or else left me with a mess I have to untangle. My first two Nano wins were useless, once I got passed the beginning I had planned and realised I didn't have a middle. While I agree that some of what I wrote is better than I expected, it doesn't always match the plot I planned, and I'm left with a story that has gone off on a tangent, down a road I didn't want it to walk down. My third Nano win was more successful, and this is the draft I went on to finish and subsequently revise. But even then, even though I stayed closer to the path, I had huge gaps and threads of story that I somehow had to bring together, and it took me two years on and off to finally turn it into something I was happy with.

So, when putting pen to paper for this year's novel (which, for those of you wondering, is a complete overhaul of my first attempt at Nano back in 2009), I knew I didn't want to mess it up. This novel has been a baby I want to bring up the right way, and after years of waiting and feeding it ideas bit by bit, I've finally had another shot at getting it right. I occasionally found myself forgetting the true goal of this novel and getting caught up in the Nano rush, and once or twice I fell into the trap of writing any old thing to achieve the word count, but I pulled myself up on it before it went too far. I let the inner editor out once, to cut 700 words (which I got told off for by a fellow Wrimo and vowed to use the "strikeout" feature from now on, as per her instruction), but my novel is better for it. And in the past my tactic had always been to skip ahead when I got bored or blocked with what I was writing, and while I agree that this is a good way to keep the writing going instead of getting stuck, I often made the mistake of skipping too far ahead and struggling to link the scenes together later on. I've learnt my lesson from that and made the gaps smaller this time around, writing as lineally as possible. But please don't avoid writing later scenes altogether. If you already have the climax or the ending unravelling in your head, or even a scene you just really want in your novel, make sure you write it down while it's fresh in your mind and use it as something to work towards. Just make sure it fits in nicely with the rest of your story during re-writes!

So at the end of this year's NaNoWriMo, I've really understood how to make Nano work for me. As I've always said, the programme is a great way to kickstart your novel, and it goes without saying that the atmosphere, the people you meet both online and in write ins, the tips and tricks and moral support are invaluable and make for a wonderful experience. But, if you know how you want your novel to go and intend to edit it later on (instead of just writing for enjoyment and creativity's sake like I know a lot of people do), make sure you remember what the end goal is. It's not too difficult to write 50,000 words of just anything. Keeping your novel on track and producing something you want to show the world is much harder.

So I hope you all had a good November, whether or not you joined in with NaNoWriMo. If you are a regular participant or you are thinking of joining in next year, I would love to buddy up with you and hear how you do. My account can be found here: http://nanowrimo.org/participants/azureoblivion

All the best and happy holidays :)

Hampshire, UK, December 2015

Writing that breathes.

Any writers reading this may or may not have heard of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), when crazy people like myself embark on a mission to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. People have laughed and called me mad, but I assure you it's possible. I've done it three times and I am determined that this year I'll add another trophy to my fictional shelf. But I'm not here to talk about Nanowrimo, because you may already know what it is, and if you don't, I recommend you head over to nanowrimo.org to get the low down on this crazy yet exhilarating writing activity.

What I'm here to talk about is the character who will finally be getting her own novel this November.

Before I start, I have a couple of confessions to make. Confession number one, I used to be a regular online role player and fanfiction writer (don't ask to see my fanfiction, it's terrible). And secondly, the character I mentioned above was (you guessed it) originally a character created especially for a role play game. As embarrassing as I find it to admit to non-online friends that I used to role play, I've got to be honest, I wouldn't be the writer I am today without it. My first venture into RPing was full of Mary Sues, clichés and cheesy lines. But as I got older and more experienced, my writing improved. Most importantly, I stopped using RP as an opportunity to put myself into my favourite fictional worlds (that gets boring after a while) and started getting creative with characters.

The character in question had similar beginnings. She started off as a baddie, quite generic, a school bully, a spoilt brat. But eventually, I began to discover this character's reasons for being the way she was. Her dreams. Her fears. The things that make her tick. Suddenly, she went from being a generic baddie to a well-fleshed out character. So much so that she breathed on the page. She became so natural to write that she pretty much told ME what she would do in each situation, rather than it being the other way around.

After a while my RPing days began to look over, and I realised that I didn't want my best character to die with the site she had lived on for a number of years. So, six years ago, when I first heard about Nanowrimo, I tried to write her into her own novel. But the RP world was still too fresh, and much to my dismay, she fell flat and dull in the vague and pale world I tried to create just for her.

Six years on, now that the RP sites are well and truly buried, I've worked and reworked that world and the plots to go with it and I'm finally ready to try again. And believe me, I've never been so excited for Nanowrimo. I can't wait to write her and get to know her again. It will be like seeing an old friend after long years of separation.

So, as I wait impatiently for the 1st November, able to do everything except start writing, I'm talking about my novel and my character instead.

It's going to be a good November.

Happy noveling ;)

Norwich, UK, October 2015

Autumn, remind me why I fell in love with you.

Autumn is in full swing, and I've been dragged into it kicking and screaming. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy autumn, but I'm such a summer child that I find it difficult to say goodbye to the sun and come to terms with the changing of the seasons. Even when most of the people I follow on Blogger and Instagram were getting excited about colder days and pumpkin-spiced lattés and saying it was their favourite season, I just couldn't warm to the idea. But now, finally, I've accepted it. I've left summer and denial behind, and I'm welcoming autumn with all the woollens, yummy soups and pretty scenery it brings.

I never used to enjoy autumn when I lived in Spain, because Spain doesn't really have autumn, at least not in the area I lived. The weather just got colder, the days got shorter and the flowers died, leaving perennials behind. But in the UK, France and Germany, to name a few more Northern countries, autumn is a dream. My favourite colours are reds, burnt oranges and warm yellows, all the colours the trees turn when autumn comes along. My camera roll fills with snaps of orange-tinged avenues and brightly coloured parks, while my shelves suddenly display an array of fallen leaves I've collected on walks. And while I hate the nights drawing in and I'm not a fan of the cold, I love getting out the boots and woolly jumpers, and this year especially, I've indulged in a bit of retail therapy to update my autumn wardrobe (shh, don't tell).

And the food! Oh, how I wish British supermarkets would sell more pumpkins and their cousins! Last night I knocked up some roast pumpkin to accompany a tasty Saturday night paprika beef dish, and I'm loving all the root veg and winter spices to throw in soups (although, to be fair, I tend to ignore people who tell me I can't eat soup in the summer, who do they think they are?) And a little later on, when the Christmas spirit starts to creep in (i.e. not in September when the shops think it's okay to start screaming at us to buy Christmas stuff), I can't get enough gingerbread, Yogi tea and hot chocolate, mmm mm.

Finally, there's the nostalgia, the sadness. In some ways, this nostalgia is a good thing. It's a sign that things are ending, but after that ending comes a new beginning, a new year. But I can't help but lament the passing of time, especially if the year has passed quickly, and this is the main reason I'm usually so reluctant to let go of summer. Time falls away quickly, like the leaves of the trees, and before I know it the trees will be bare and the time will be gone. Thank goodness all the beauty of autumn and all the joy of Christmas is enough to distract me from unhappy thoughts, and by the time January comes along I'm already looking forward to spring.

Autumn is finally here, both outdoors and in my heart. And soon I'll be munching my gingerbread men and doing my Christmas shopping. But for now, let me wish you a happy season and leave you with a little autumn poem I wrote some time ago...

Autumn Poetry

Norwich, UK, October 2015

Soul Vacation

It's not been a great British summer. We've had sunny days, but those days have mostly fallen when I've been busy or at work. But I managed to tolerate the not so great weather knowing that I would be jetting off to Spain in September. And now, now that the holiday is over and done with, it's not just sunshine that I've enjoyed. I've enjoyed simple pleasures that all too often get forgotten about in day-to-day life.


Who knew something so simple as drinking a morning cup of tea on the balcony could be so lovely? Especially with a view of the sea, a light breeze and sounds of holiday activity. And then, if seeing the sea from afar isn't enough, having a wander down to the beach after breakfast to dip your toes in the water, or taking a walk along the prom or into town, with no time constraints, no obligations.


Freedom was certainly the theme of the holiday, like being able to sit around reading for as long as I wanted, or eat whatever I wanted, whether that's refreshing fruit and salad or something a little more naughty (cake anyone?). And this freedom can only come when you are spending time with friends and loved ones who are happy to enjoy the same things as yourself, and I'm thankful for that.


As well as freedom, I've been reminded not just of the simple things, but of things I grew up loving. We have all this digitally enhanced pop music on the radio these days, but there is nothing more beautiful than raw, live music, a guitar and a voice, whether that be blues, jazz or flamenco. One of the best nights of the 10 days was when a male and female duo got up on stage to entertain us with some typical flamenco. Stunning guitar and a passionate voice got everyone up dancing and clapping along to the music.


And then you have the things man never made: the mountains of the Sierra Nevada, the ever-changing sky... and the sea. Always the sea. You could go back to your home town and buildings could have been knocked down, parks dug up, friends and local businesses gone, but the sea will always be both the same and constantly changing.


They talk about soul vacations. I always thought a soul vacation is going to some far-flung destination and seeing things you've never seen before. But I've realised that sun, sea and time to reflect and relax is sometimes all the food the soul needs.

Norwich, UK, September 2015

Faded Britain

My boyfriend and I love going on trips, so moving to Norwich has given us the opportunity to explore a brand new corner of Britain. Although we've been here for two months, bad weather, visiting family and bee stings (thankfully not a bad one) have prevented us from getting in the car and taking a drive to one of the several places I have on my East Anglia bucket list.

Today we managed to get to Great Yarmouth. You've all heard of or visited those faded seaside towns from when, to the British, a holiday meant staying in a caravan park in a touristey seaside town and whiling away a few days eating fish and chips, ice cream and candy floss, making sand castles and throwing 2 pence pieces into slot machines. Sadly for these resorts, many Brits can now afford holidays that require a plane ride, so the money just isn't going into them the way they used to. The peeling paint and buildings in disrepair leave me feeling very nostalgic, not just because it's sad to see them going downhill, but because these places take me back to a brightly coloured childhood.

For my parents' generation, these resorts were still holiday destinations. By the time I came along, they were more day trip material with my grandparents. It was probably a trip down memory lane for them too. New Brighton just across from Liverpool was the main one, with trips to the fair and chips with salt and vinegar, and further afield was Blackpool, Southport and Rhyl in North Wales. These day trips were some of the highlights of my youngest years, before we moved to Spain. These towns are the epitome, in my mind, of true Britishness.

By my teens, I began to notice the decline of these places. Some of them are lucky enough to be rescued or have found money from other sources. Others are not so lucky. There is evidence of this in patched up architecture, missing signs and paint in desperate need of a touch up. But the best thing about these places is that they just keep on going. Donkey rides on the beach, ice cream vans, the arcades luring you in with their distorted music and constant clink of coins...

But it was a good day. The sun was out to begin with (before, in true British style, the sky clouded over), my hair was blown into a bird's nest and my skin whipped into goosepimples, and the best thing? We stopped for proper chippie chips on the sea front. And because I'm Northern, I had to have gravy.

It wasn't how I usually like to spend my Sundays, but it was a refreshing break from the norm. I missed my parents, I missed my grandparents and I missed childhood, but in that perfect, bittersweet way. Those good old British seaside towns might fade, but my memories won't. I hope they keep going a little longer.

Happy Sunday :)

Norwich, UK, August 2015

Shine Like The Sun

You know how it is: you're excited to start a new job, you have the initial exhaustion and nerves and learning, and then the newness wears off and you're faced with routine. And then it's a different type of exhaustion, it's that frustration of never having the time or energy for doing things you want to get done. Suddenly the only thing you seem to have any energy for in the evenings is vegging out on the sofa watching telly that you don't even enjoy.

That's how it's been for me these past three weeks. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have a job, but being thrown back into full time work combined with tax issues, a spot of homesickness and having to run my own home have taken it out of me. And so, last Thursday, I had gotten myself into a real grump. Fortunately, I had someone there to listen and give hugs, and d'you know what? Getting it off my chest was exactly what I needed to do. I suddenly felt much lighter, and I told myself I had to stop being miserable and start being happy. So, that evening, after Chinese takeaway (comfort food does wonders), I sat down with my journal which, as mentioned a few posts back, I've been keeping especially to remind me of good times I've had. I set to work catching up on it, but not before glancing back at what I wrote during my last few weeks in Hamburg. And it took me back to a promise I made to myself, which had since been pushed to the back of my mind with all my moving and reluctance to leave Germany. I felt so surrounded by lovely people who thought highly of me, and I realised I wanted to be that person they saw me as, inside as well as out.  Not the nervous little mouse paranoid that I was a nuisance, an annoyance, and that nobody liked me, but instead the smiley, cheerful girl that the people in Germany had come to know me as. And one comment stuck out in particular: one of the most loving and selfless ladies I've ever met told me I shined like the sun, and to keep shining. And so I made my promise, I told myself I would feel like that person they described.

So, on Thursday, I told myself to stop being grumpy for no real reason (and honestly, there was no real reason, just a few little things that I was allowing to get to me) and that from now on I will remind myself to stay cheerful and grateful, and to keep repeating positive mantras. I'm in a new chapter of my life and I have lots of things to appreciate, and just because I don't have much time on my hands to do things I enjoy (reading, writing, being creative, for example) doesn't mean I can't make time. Life is good, it's high time I shine inside as well as out.

Norwich, UK, August 2015

A Window to the Soul

I've been making up stories for as long as I can remember, but I was around 12 when I realised I was a writer. My first "novels" were a ghost story and a soppy teenage romance full of cheesy lines and stereotypical characters, and far too many descriptions of hair colour. Before long, I was making lists of names for characters, maps of a Narnia-esque fantasy world and profiles for my imaginary people. But the thing is, I have this rule where I never let anyone read my work until it's finished, and aside from snippets and short stories written solely to gain feedback from my creative writing circle, I haven't ever finished anything.

But last November I made a breakthrough. I finally finished the first draft of a novel I had been working on for three years, the first novel I had good ideas for and the first time I knew I had to finish something. This determination spurred me on to begin the second draft, A few weeks ago, after spending a good six months tidying up the timeline and adding scenes that joined up the pieces of the puzzle, I started writing the third draft, this time focusing on dialogue and getting facts straight. But then the doubts that have been simmering away in the background for years finally came bubbling to the surface, throwing obstacles in my way.

Like any writer, I've had doubts before, such as writer's block when I wasn't sure where the plot was going or the cringing when I felt like my writing sounded terrible. But this time, the doubts are crippling me. At first I despaired of my dialogue, which has always been one of my weak points. But now I can see that dialogue is just a trivial symptom that I can shelve along with writer's block and cringing. The real problem has been niggling away at me since I started writing this novel, but now it has come crashing into me, and for the first time I am seriously considering abandoning all my hard work.

Because I realised this isn't like my other attempts at novels. In the past, my writing was pure fiction, such as fantasy worlds with cliché scenarios, heroes and villains and quests. But this novel isn't like that. This novel, while fiction, draws on real experiences and real feelings, because unlike teenage me, I have now lived and felt and seen. The plot and characters may be figments of my imagination, but the saying goes that the best writing comes from the heart, and I have applied that in my novel.

Despite my half-hearted attempts at toning it down (another saying is that writers should be honest and not worry about what people think), I am only too aware that my novel gives quite a raw insight into my soul. And although I want people to hear what I have to say, I'm afraid of showing who I am and afraid of how I will be judged. If it were only perfect strangers who were going to read what I've written, I probably wouldn't care. But the people who are going to read my novel include those who know and love me. And let's not be too optimistic; they may even be the only ones to read my writing.

And so I've stumbled across the writing problem that seems to be the least talked about. I have read books, blogs and Pinterest pins full of advice regarding character building, strengthening plots and improving dialogue, but aside from the quotes telling you to "be honest", "don't care about what people think" and "the best writing comes from the heart", I haven't come across many accounts from writers having to get over the crippling fear of exposing their soul to their nearest and dearest. I feel like I've come too far to give up now. I have two beta readers - a best friend and my boyfriend - waiting impatiently for me to finally let them read my work, and my family are asking me when I'm going to show them the fruits of all these years of labour.

Perhaps I will give up now, at the last hurdle. Or perhaps I will shelve it away until I stumble across it at 80 and do a Harper Lee. Or perhaps I'll just grin and bear it.

The best writing comes from the heart. Now I just have to decide whether or not I should let people see me at my best.

Norwich, UK, July 2015

The Food of Love

I was never one for cooking. I believe in eating healthily, but despite that, cooking has always been a chore. As a child I hated being asked to help with dinner, while my brother was eager to be in the kitchen with mum, spurred on by childhood dreams of becoming a chef (he is now studying Accountancy, but cooking is still a hobby for him, as far as I'm aware). So, when I was seventeen and getting ready to head off to uni, my mum played a trick on me to make sure I could fend for myself in the big, bad world. She and the family headed out for the afternoon, leaving  me with instructions to have a spaghetti bolognese on the table by the time they came back. Sure, I knew the basics, I had had no choice but to help with dinner occasionally, but I had never cooked a meal from start to finish before. Aside from the fact that the onions were a little too al dente for our taste, the meal was a success. Seventeen year old me was brimming with domestic pride.

Let's fast-forward a few years, past the kitchen highs and lows of university where I learned to make a cracking veggie lasagne but resorted a little too often to Super Noodles, or else cooked my carrots but forgot to defrost my chicken. Like many freshers, my diet wasn't the healthiest, especially not during that time when I ate everything my mother wouldn't let me have as a child (why did I think that white bread was that good?) But a mixture of gaining a better understanding of nutrition and living with housemates who were good cooks eventually gave me a few useful strings to my bow. Yet despite a preference for a Mediterranean style of cooking (I refer you to my Spanish upbringing) and picking up a few tips and tricks along the way, I couldn't consider myself a good cook. And the main reason for this is performance anxiety.

Sure, I can cook for myself. But if I make a mistake, or something doesn't taste good, what does it matter? Better luck next time, I can learn from my mistakes. But cooking for other people, especially people who don't know me very well, is stressful. I have recently come back from a year in Hamburg, and while I picked up lots of tips and recipes from my German hosts, cooking for them was for me akin to sitting an exam or going to an interview. I dreaded it. And it's not just getting it to taste good. Things like getting everything cooked in time, cooked at the same time, and getting a meal to the table while all the components are still hot are things I'm just not very good at.

But three weeks ago I moved in with my boyfriend. I'm not a housemate any more. I'm not a lodger living with a host family. I'm not living with my parents. I am the woman of the house, and while I've been waiting to start work again (next Monday, not long!), naturally it's up to me to cook dinner while my boyfriend is at work. And it's interesting how, despite my dislike for cooking, now that I have to do it every night I'm starting to enjoy it. I don't get that stage fright with my boyfriend. I trust him not to judge and criticise. Last Sunday, while enjoying a lamb roast which I surprised myself by cooking rather well (I don't recall cooking lamb before, so you can understand me being pleased with myself) I realised that over these past three weeks I haven't put a bad meal on the table. There were one or two dishes which I considered mediocre, perhaps, but no disasters, no burnt veg, nothing horribly greasy or tasteless.

I've always had a love for food, but never a love for cooking. Until, perhaps, now. My mum's guidance hasn't gone to waste. Her love of flavour and all things Mediterranean have influenced my cooking, and I've taken that and combined it with what I've picked up from my travels and people I've  lived with, such as ways to make vegetarian foods appealing to a meat eater, and that German love of something as simple as butter to add flavour to any dish (so yummy, but so naughty for the waistline). Sure, there is bound to come a time when I make a total mess and we have to resort to a takeaway pizza, but for now I've found something out about myself that I'm quite proud of: I can cook, and I'm eager to get better at it.

Norwich, UK, July 2015

On Living the Dream

Around about ten years ago, I imagined that my life by 2015 would be quite different from what it has become. For a start, teenage me was a Francophile, and I dreamed of living in France. I imagined having a little provincial cottage, somewhere in the countryside but not too far from the city, with a flowery garden, an art room full of oil paintings and shelves upon shelves of books. I imagined being an independent woman, a successful translator or maybe, just maybe, a published author.

Of course, none of these things have happened. Francophile me turned into a Germanophile. Idealist me turned into a realist. And that independent young woman? She got a boyfriend.

I always was romantic. I couldn't wait to fall in love. But the image of me being a wife and mother always battled with the image of me being strong and independent. For a while, I saw no reason why I shouldn't have that ideal bachelorette dream for a few years and have a boyfriend. That was before I drove not one but several boyfriends up the wall by jetting off on semesters abroad and talking about my dreams of living overseas. I have been selfish, but I can't regret it. Few people have the chance to live their dreams and I was determined to take every opportunity handed to me. But when another person enters the equation, there comes a point when you have to make a compromise. And the agreement to compromise came when I realised I was finally tired of long-distance relationships.

It was about two years ago when I started to consider moving in with my partner. For a long time I had held on to that idea of having my own place, completely my own. But when I graduated university, went back to live with my parents and failed to land the dream job straight away, reality took a big bite. Today's economic situation isn't a friendly one for people looking to live alone. It's not even friendly for some couples wanting to live together. So when I finally let myself consider the possibility, I warmed to the idea. I had been with my partner long enough for it to be suitable, I knew he was secure and stable and would look after me if times were hard, and I figured it would be a great way to really get to know whether or not we are right for each other in the long run.

There was just one last thing I had to do before I took the plunge: spend a year in Germany. It was the one last selfish dream I had, the one shot at doing something by myself before I became one of a pair, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't do it. So I did it, and while at the end of my placement it hurt to tear myself away from a country I have come to love, I have now freed myself up to truly take any opportunity that comes my way, for the first time in my life.

As of two weeks ago, I am now living with my boyfriend in Norwich, UK. After we've been waiting for it for so long, the feeling hasn't really sunk in yet. It's partly because my biggest worry right now is finding a job, and job hunts tend to stop me from really enjoying things (I'm a worrier, oh dear). But little things remind me that it's finally happened, such as the objects I collected "for my home" finally making an appearance, the strange enjoyment of cooking dinner every evening (I don't usually like cooking) and the card from my family congratulating us on our first new home. Things will probably start to settle quite nicely when I finally get a job and we fall into a routine. The routine of our life.

It's not the dream I had ten years ago. I am yet to land the dream job, publish that novel still waiting to be edited and buy a pretty cottage in the countryside. But it's a dream my boyfriend and I have shared for the past two years, and we have other dreams, dreams that are slowly becoming plans. Dreams that might just become a reality, if we work hard enough.

It's enough for us, for now.

Norwich, UK, June 2015

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