Video Blogging

Hello all :) 

I am so, so sorry for not posting on here more often! I hope you haven't been worried about me.
If you interested in what I'm doing, I'm now actually trying video blogging, vlogging, YouTubing, whatever you want to call it.

You can see what I'm up to here:
My YouTube Channel(feel free to subscribe if you really want) 

Again, sorry for not posting for so long! Oh man, I feel really guilty now. Second year has just been insanely busy. *pats blog on head* sorry blog.

Much love, 
x 

Home

So I came yesterday evening. I got here at about seven due to finishing lectures at five. As soon as I got in I was greeted by the warmth of central heating and a hug of Dad. I had already met mum on the street and we went to get Diet Coke. I had my tea (dinner, whatever you want to call it) cooked for me. Lay on the sofa and watched TV with mum. It was just lovely.

It's the first time in a while I've felt fully content. Just really, really happy. There is still the worry and fear of death. It came to mind when I hugged dad - thinking of my friend's Dad - but it eased away.

Right now I am in my dressing gown and a knitted jumper with my penguin slipper socks. I am watching TV - a luxury that I don't have at my uni house. I made myself lunch from a full fridge and cupboards - a muller corner, kit kat and nice bread all things that I don't get at uni. I feel looked after. I think that's the lovely thing about being home - you feel more like a kid again. You don't have to think about yourself, your parents are doing that for you.

I don't know, I was trying to work it out earlier, why I love being home so much. Probably a million and one reasons. I'm just so happy that I'm here. 

Ice cream

Since the last post, I've cried a lot.
I've been feeling such strong of tugs of sadness that sometimes make everything seem dark.
I haven't actively searched for happiness, if anything I am longing for it to sneak up on me again. 

Today was nice.
I saw my mum and with her she brought the comfort and love from home. I hadn't realised how much I had wanted to hug her until I actually did. 
She brought me chocolates. Including a present from a distant relative in Scotland who was surprised to learn I was at University. The present was a chocolate bar with a fiver wrapped around it. 

We went out for lunch and I showed her a bit of my Sheffield. She told me about the week she and dad had spent in St Combs and showed me pictures. They look like they had the loveliest time, which made me smile. 

St Combs is a place I was actually going to write about on here over summer. It's far up north in Scotland, near Aberdeen. It's a tiny fishing village. My dad's mum grew up there, my dad spent his childhood summers there and in turn he took our family. It is one of my favourite places. There's rarely anyone else on the beach, it's sunny and you are surrounded by blue and the sounds of waves. It's idyllic.

From this hidden gem in Scotland comes ice cream. We got it all the time when I was younger (I haven't been in about 8 years)  and I used to swear by it. It's home made and just, one of the best things I've ever tasted.

And my parents concocted a plan with the shop keeper to get some home. It involved a big plastic, picnic box, ice cream taken from the deep freeze and my parents buying a lot of ice from a local Tesco to keep it cold for the seven hour drive home.

It worked.

My mum brought me a box of it today and with that spoonful came the memories of that blue, of the sounds of waves and the feel of the sand and your thoughts of the outside world being eroded by the sea. I didn't think childhood or its memories could have a taste but I think I found mine. 

I can't say to you that I'm really, 100% happy right now. I can't say to you that I'm not scared of someone else dying. I can say I have ice cream that took a lot of love and care to get to me. I have parents who love me. I have love that I can rely on and for that, today, I can almost remember the taste of contentment. 

There Really Aren't the Words

It seems some kind of sick joke that the universe has played on me. That as soon as I discover the realisation that my life is in a pretty good place right now, this happens. 

About a month ago now, my friend’s dad died. Mark Kirman. He was a lovely man and out of my friend’s parents, he was one of whom I got on the best with. He burnt me a copy of an Artic Monkeys album. The grief I felt was overwhelming. I knew my own was merely a ripple compared to the resounding, plunging depths that of my friend and her family but it was more so the whole situation that got to me. How my friend had been ill and was just getting better. Her 7 year old sister. The funeral. The family photos. Going to their house, of which I have always felt at home.

Then I tried to notice the happy things again, I tried to focus on the good of life rather than the bad. I got an owl keyring especially made me from Etsy, which I loved. I got my money back from an insurance claim after sending a letter of appeal – which gave me a confidence in my writing I really needed at the time. I went out for a meal with friends before we went back to university and the vibes of contentment seemed a little shakey but there none the same.

And I got work experience at the Guardian.

I can’t even begin to describe what that means to me.

It was my Dad’s birthday – I made him cry with my card since I wanted to make it clear just how much I love and appreciate him. I worked at the flower show with a friend I hadn’t seen much over summer. I got tips and paid and felt the worry of money ease itself away from my shoulders. I had a Thai meal my last night before university at home and thought this year would be better than the next.

It won’t be.

On Tuesday, I found out that my friend from the flat below – Suki (Tom Russell but he was our Suki) died. Seeing it written like that makes it hit home a lot harder. He was one of the loveliest guys. He gave this presence to the flat of pure joy, making everyone laugh – most of the time unintentionally.

I really don’t know what to say. I don't know if I can say any more about him. My words can't describe him well enough. 

Having to deal with a parent death and a friend dying at the age of 19, I don’t know how to cope. I find myself questioning life and what we’re doing here and we’re all just going to die anyway so what’s the point in it all? It's terrifying to see that pattern of thought so clearly etched on my brain.

And then, I think back to the past few days. We’ve been at the lads’ house most of the time since we found out. The other day, there was a 4 person spoon. We all had a beer. We just sat and chatted – there was surprising outbursts of laughter and for a second everything felt normal. And then we remembered. And then it was quiet. But during those hours spent at their house, I can feel ourselves becoming closer with one another. We’re sticking together and growing stronger as a friendship group because of it.

I can’t tell you if life has a meaning, if we have a purpose. 

I can tell you it’s not fair. It’s horrible. There’s no way of getting over it, I’m just trying to get through it – cherishing those close to me as I do. Maybe that’s what we’re meant to do in life. Just hold on to one another. 

The Big Issue and a Small Beep

When I first started this blog, the grand length of time being about a month ago, I was planning on writing only when I was really, really happy. You know those times when you have to admit to yourself that things are just good now. But a little thing changed that. 

I walked up to town to put some money in to the bank, that in itself is a good feeling. I was going to buy myself a keyring for my house keys next as a treat but decided against it. (I'm that lame of a person.) Instead I paid £2 for a Big Issue, something I very rarely do. I, like most people, turn away. I don't like being reminded me of my failure to give. I do give to charity but nowhere near as much as I would like to. I think charity works in two ways: you help others and in the more selfish of reasons - you feel good about yourself. I think sometimes I focus too much on the selfish reasons. 

I'll be honest here though, putting a smile on the guy's face made me feel good about myself. I was happy to make someone else happy. Like I said, I had just put some money in the bank and it felt wrong not be generous. And more importantly than that - it does help. 

This wasn't the little thing, though. 

I went to the library - I was wandering round town, enjoying the sunshine after the rain of yesterday - and I got out two books. Lord of the Flies and The Yellow Wallpaper - two books that have long been 'To Read' List. Side note - the fact I have a 'To Read' list makes me quite happy. Especially because it involves quite a few classics and makes me feel like a more well read person. 

Anyway, there was a beep as my library card was scanned and in an instant I was back in my childhood. There's a library, well - used to be, across my house and I used to always go there and take out books. I read them in a flash. I used to take out the same books over and over again. And by hearing that little beep, I could recount my visits to the library, hearing that exact same sound. I was there again, a child, with new books and a sudden, strong rush of a love of reading. 

Long story short, I think by setting up this blog with the intention of only writing ground breaking happy moments is setting myself up for diaster. I've always said I prefer unexpected happiness rather than trying to convince yourself you are (hello certain people on social network sites with boasting updates) So by writing about the little things as well, I'll remember to appreciate them just as much. 

Oh wow, I really did not mean to end this as cheesily at that. 

My First Twenty First

On Saturday I went down my friend's Jonny's house for his and his twin brother's 21st. It was a long train ride for me up since he's quite Southern and I'm quite Northern but I thought it would be worth the effort. I hadn't see my flatmates for most of the summer and I was looking forward to seeing them.  

I suppose I should give some back story to this. With regards to university friends I've always regarded myself as much closer to my course mates. With my flat (and I mean the flat below too) I like them and get on with them but sometimes - because some of them their closest friends are each other - I've felt a bit out of it. This party changed that. 

As well as the party itself being incredible, it made me realise just how much I love the people I live with. That night made me realise how much I had missed them and how much fun we all have. As soon as the lads walked down, hugs were exchanged, jager bombs picked up for all and the night went on to be amazing. Before going on to describe the party, what made it so much better was realising what a strong group of friends I have outside of my course. Maybe put more simply: I am part of this friendship group that I thought I am more so on the borderline. They like me (and think I'm a bit odd at the same time.) 

And the party? Well. 

Free bar - not having to worry about paying for drinks, just getting pretty much whatever you want is glorious. Though be warned, it leads to quite the hangover.
Just sitting round the shisha pipe - chatting and catching up and feeling myself slip in to the group, a place that had always been there for me but I'd had doubts about its existence.
The directions to the toilets: 'Follow the candles.' How nice is that?Hog roast. Enough said. 

Appetizers.  A small crumpet with cream cheese, smoked salmon and caviar. I tried caviar. As well as this really tasty chicken and sausage. And jelly babies and other sweets in jars on the table.
Speaking of firsts, I also tried a puff of a cigar.
There was a little bit of dancing. I have to be honest, that bit is a little blurry.

And the best moment?
It got to three in the morning and myself and most of my flat jumped in to the pool - all of us just in our pants. We swam, we sang uni chants and it was one of those moments of elation. It was a moment full of spontaneity, youth, freedom, and being close enough to people to not even be concerned about the fact you were half naked. And to older self for future reference:
Uni chat:
We go somewhere you don't go, you don't you don't
We go somewhere you don't go
(to be sung to the tune of Camptown Races) 

It was such a good night. Guys, if I show this little blog to you, please know that I love you. 

Most of us. Except Leah and Jonny.

We Are Gonna Dance In to the Sea

The title is a lyric from the song 'Ma Cherié'  by DJ Antoine ft. The Beat Shakers. 

In the high likelihood your are unfamiliar with this song, then here is a handy YouTube link.

DJ Antoine

Why the hell is this song made it to my happy place blog when it's so terrible?

Well, I feel as if I should say that I do not like this song itself. Hand on heart, it's just awful. 

But what the song has connected to it is a four day holiday in Spain, Calella. We went out three nights out in a row, one of those included an unexpected foam party. And this song was played every night. I hummed it nearly all day without realising it. 

Hearing it instantly puts me back in the club, covered in foam, slipping all over the dance floor, laughing and just relishing that sense of freedom you can get when being abroad with friends for the first time. And slightly tipsy after a litre cocktail for 5 euros. 

It came on shuffle today (yes, yes it's on my itunes) and I swear the whole time it was on I was just smiling, which you might not think is too bad. Just to throw something to the mix - I was walking along an extremely busy High Street and I must have looked mental but I couldn't help myself. 

This song is a holiday song and despite it's questionable Euro beat and even more questionable lyrics, I can't help but smile when I here it.