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17 December 2013

Happy Half Birthday!

Although I won't be posting this on the day it is written... today is the 8th of December. Which means exactly 6 months ago, I turned 18... and exactly 6 months from now, I will turn 19 (June 8th, hold the date, I am always up for drinkies and present giving).

6 months is not a particularly long time, generally 6 months go past and I haven't noticed a thing change. But for me, these last 6 months have had big-time effects on my present and future life... blimey. When I realised it was my 'half birthday', I began to have a little think about what's happened in the last half a year and by God it's been a bit traumatic and life changing, slight over exaggeration there.

A couple of days after my 18th birthday, I went out on a work night out and ended up meeting a future life partner (now ex-life partner). Having been single for a good old while, there is nothing like throwing a man-shaped spanner into the works to make life a bit more exciting. Cue the realisation that we were both moving to the opposite sides of the world, and a couple of months later we said our goodbyes as I headed off travelling and he moved for 10 months to the Caribbean. Although that's not quite the hunky-dory ending we both wanted, we get along really well and still talk, so if anything I have made a nice new man friend. Over the following few months despite a few bloke-encounters here and there, I have decided fully that to get into a relationship would be stupid as I'm leaving in January. I may not have a big spoon to keep me warm at night, but I do have my dog, my best friend who is back from uni AND I don't have to buy any extra Christmas presents, so who is the real winner here...

So as I just mentioned, in August I left my everyone behind to go away with my two best friends. Every year thousands of British teens go off on 'lads/gals holidays' after completing their A Levels. Under the pretence that just this once, they won't come back a lobster, hoping to gain lad and ladette points and quite frankly, having sex with anything that moves. Call me the cynic here, but whilst there is always a slight appeal of a girls holiday, me and two of my best friends decided if we were going to do it, we'd do it properly. So in January, whilst all the rest of our friends were organising their Zante 2k13 holidays, we booked a flight to Istanbul... and a flight back from Corfu with a month in between to do whatever we wanted. Our path went down Turkey, across the south west coast, and into the Greek Islands, where everyone was... Australian? Bet you weren't expecting that.  SOON, I will do a whole post on my travelling shenanigans, but for the mean time, as you can imagine travelling as a three was always going to be a roller coaster, and although they are still two of my best friends, I would definitely not reccommend it. However, for the most part, those 5 weeks were the best of my life... people go to find themselves travelling, I think we'd all admit to losing a bit of ourselves....
In Bodrum, south of Turkey, the day after we headed onto a private yacht courtesy of our hostel owner, each one of us were feeling mortally sick. And not because of our (fairly severe) hangovers. Instead, we were sat at a table in the 38' heat, staring at our phones. Ruths was the first to ring, we all held our breaths as she picked up and whispered a barely audible 'Hello'... to my sister. Sarah had volunteered to go up to the school on August 15th, and pick up mine and Ruth's A Level results. Sh*tting it, did not even cover how we felt. Whilst Ruth and Tess were both depending on their results to get in their chosen universities, I was waiting on mine to find out what kind of uni I would be applying to come September. Thankfully, we all did well, both girls got into their chosen uni's, Ruth in fact, went on to study at an even better university because her grades were higher than expected! An hour boat trip later, to our next destination of Kardemena, Kos (party island) and we most definitely celebrated our success in style. And then regretted it the next day. 

September to December has been a whole lot more quiet compared to my action-packed summer. I went back to my job at Pizza Express, slightly skinnier due to malnutrition abroad, and a lot more brown. I then started looking around and applying for Universities, and eventually after much deliberation and receiving all 5 offers, hallelujah, I have chosen to study at Royal Holloway University of London (see below. it is incredible). I have now finally booked my flight to Italy, where I will be living for 8-9months from January the 24th, and so for the next few weeks will be sorting out all of that, a long side going through with my parents everything they need to know about Student Loans etc, because they will be left in charge primarily, whilst I am abroad. 

It's been a bit of a crazy 6 months, and as I mentioned before, the choices I've made and the experiences I've gained will almost definitely change and effect my life forever. But that is out of my hands now, so here's to hoping the next 6 months of my life (and yours) are just as exciting and eventful! 

Ciao for Now x


15 December 2013

Alice, the Christmas Elf

It's that time of year again. People running around town as the shops start shutting, endless queues in the post office, the treacherous trip into the loft in search of all things festive, and the one time of year where putting on weight is inevitable and the norm (hooray!) yes gals and guys, I am talking of course, about christmas! *enter jolly festive tune here*

Now admittedly, Christmas is not for everyone. In fact, the majority of blogs I follow about the web actually moan about the festive season as opposed to embracing it. And despite my very best efforts throughout the years to become one of these unfun folk, I have failed. For me, Christmas is 100%, without a doubt, my favourite time of year. For someone who hates the wet, wind and rain, that is very big statement considering I am british and Christmas of course falls in Winter. 

Todays blog is lacking in advice, opinion, 'to-do's etc, it is simply a post on festive fun and what I get up to around this time of year. For the past 18 years, my family have been subjected to gifts of mugs. Mainly, because I am a bit of a mug freak and try to spread (unsuccessfully) the mug lovin' around. This year, however, I branched out. And so on the 2nd December, I made a list of what I needed to get from my very small, very unexciting, and very unambitiously stocked town, and off I went on my merry way. As pre-mentioned, my previous years of present giving have been some what unsuccessful, but since I have been earning money and will be a student for the next 3 years (aka most definitely poor), I splashed the cash a little bit, and hopefully, somewhat successfully, bought my sister and both my parents something that they will actually appreciate. Even I can understand that 18 years of mugs for birthday and Christmas may, eventually, wear down the levels of excitement. 

Yesterday the Dodd household was full of antics (stress), as we went about our annual 'Christmas prep day' activities. Essentially, christmas prep day is the day two members of our family, pop off to the Christmas tree man to find the biggest and best Christmas tree our living room is capable of holding. This year, it was the task of myself and my dad. After a bit of gentle persuasion.-pleading- our brand new 7ft dropless tree was positioned in all its glory in the corner of the living room, being attacked by me and my mum with endless amounts of fairy lights. Carols were blasting, the whole family, cat and dog included, were downstairs enjoying the festive cheer and decorating our home to most families Christmas standard AKA tinsel tinsel everywhere! 

With just under two weeks left until Christmas, I have a couple of weeks filled with the usual Christmas card writing (under my mothers orders), Work-do's, Secret Santa's, Friends back from Uni reunions and the extremely traumatic experience of working in a restaurant during the busiest time of year. However, this does not deter me at all from my Christmas spirit. YES, it might be a bit annoying when my ring tone blasts out Shakin Stevens, and ok ok, maybe not everybody enjoys Christmas jumpers. But I, most definitely do. And I will not let the Scrooges and Grinch's of Christmas, bring me down... 

Ciao for Now! x


8 December 2013

HELP! Pinterest Addiction

I am a self confessed internet networking butterfly. I've done Bebo, Myspace, Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Flickr, Blogspot (duh), Youtube, LookBook... even one called Fuzmo where you just post pictures of your pets.

and now, I have Pinterest.

For those of you who have no idea what pinterest is, you need to climb on out from under your rock and jump on board my new favourite website. Pinterest is basically a pin-board style photo sharing networky thing, where you can either post your own photos under certain tags, OR do as I do, and re-pin various pictures onto your own board.

My Pinterest addiction first hit just as all great things do, at about 3 in the morning when you can't sleep. I downloaded the app after hearing SprinkleOfGlitter rave endlessly about it. Skip to 5am and I am sitting upright in bed, googling a manor house in Oxford after seeing it on the 'Wedding' search whilst looking for pictures for one of my now 9 boards. 

To most, Pinterest is a little bit of the life we want, the food we want, and the people we want to be... but have settled for stalking on the internet. I have to admit, I was one of those people who thought that too, and although there is definitely an element of that, after a few 5am nights spent on the app I must confess defeat. Who cares if I want to plan my future wedding before the age of 20? Who is really bothered if my Tattoos board is full of pictures I would never be brave enough to get? The reality is, sitting in my bed late at night looking at pictures of beautiful women in beautiful dresses in beautiful surroundings makes me happy.

And who knows, maybe in the far away future I will return to my teenage Wedding board and use it for inspiration, but at the moment I am content with stalking and stealing endless amounts of beauty and hair tips from others. 

So if you don't have it, please let Pinterest take over your life. 
Ciao for Now! x


5 December 2013

Dessert, the Second Stomach and the Free Food Free Calories Life Hack

I realised the title of this post sounds a wee bit like a book title... although I am not too sure on the success of the book (I would buy it as it has the word dessert in it). 

As you may or may not know, I have a very sweet tooth. Possibly the sweetest tooth in the world. Ever. There is nothing more cruel to me then going out for a meal with people who don't want dessert. And I am definitely a box of chocolates over crackers and cheese gal any day of the week. Carbs.. not so much, chocolates covered in chocolate dipped in chocolate? That's more my thing. 

Luckily for me, my closest friends are all dessert gals. Which is probably the reason they're my closest friends in the first place. So me and my friend Molly, came up with the solution that the reason we can eat a whole wagamama pad thai and still have room for their delicious chocolate fudge cake is that the dessert falls into a whole different stomach. The dessert stomach isn't fulfilled by the savoury flavours of a main course, which is why there is always room to have a little something afterwards. 

Another top trick for all you calorie counters and dieters (I am queen of tips for this category), is the 'Free food free calories' diet.... Before you read on, please bare in mind the word 'diet' here is a very loose term. Me and my bestest gal pal Ruth, came up with this scenario a couple of years ago to make us feel better about the copious amount of Starbucks and Costa being consumed by the pair of us. To sum it up... if you have a very close friend are you are often going out with, you should take it in turns to pay. Our reasoning is, if you did not buy the food yourself, the food did not technically exist and so the calories are non existent too. The person who brought the food did eat it, so she (or he) doesn't get the calories either. IT IS A WIN WIN SITUATION! 

The other week I went to visit Ruth at her University and as a thank you, I brought her weekly shop. That is a whole weeks worth of free calories. Quite simply genius. 

There is a small large chance this blog post will make 0 sense to you and you will leave it feeling like you wasted a small part of your life. But I hope, if you do have a sweet tooth, this is an invaluable life lesson. 

Ciao for now! x

18 November 2013

TatDo or TatDon't?

Good evening angel faces, this post is one of much controversiality (oo-er) but please remember this is my little space for my little thoughts!

So for centuries, tribes and colonies have been inking their skin as a symbol of their being, who they are, what they want to become, a sign they are part of a group, or a sign they are an individual... it's a tradition that has been going on for years...

When the tattooing we know (and may love), first came to the UK the custom was generally associated with sailors and men of the sea, who had been away to foreign countries and would bare a tattoo as a statement. Later, it spread to aristocrats and the very rich... but this blog post is definitely not a history lesson.

I just want you to question when did this:

turn into this:

You see, I have no ambition to rant about tattoos generally. If I'm completely honest, I don't care where you get them, if they're on your forehead or on your lady-parts. I completely understand if someone wants a tattoo just because they like it, to me, I am not a tattoo fascist and I do believe in getting what you want, not what other people want.

It just really hurts my brain when I think about all the hundreds of people who go out and get pissed and end up with tattoos like the one above. Or people who get a tattoo that covers up their whole back 'just for fun'. For instance, a friend of mine (let's call him Jack), when Jack was younger he went through a crazy phase and got 'Phat Bastard' tattooed across his stomach. Across his stomach. In massive letters. Enormous letters. I met Jack about 10 years later and he now has a baby daughter. Jack is now panicking about the day is daughter asks him what the words on his stomach mean. And is absolutely full of regret.

I don't have any tattoo's myself, but I know I will most likely get one in the future, and I have a lot of friends who have them. But personally, a tattoo is a commitment for life and not something I am going to take lightly. So I guess the whole point of this blog is not 'don't get a tattoo', because a lot of the time they are beautiful. It's just, please think about what you are getting done before it becomes inked on your body for life. Because a camel on your toe may be hilarious when you're 18.... but when you're a 45 year old businessman, not so much.

Go forth my little friends and proceed with caution.

Ciao for Now!


14 November 2013

Being an emotional human

Today I had big big plans to create a 'my bedroom' post, however, as per usual the technology in my life has other ideas and since the camera isn't being recognised by my computer, I have had to draw up a new plan. Inspiration came fairly quickly after watching the John Lewis Christmas Ad on TV (kudos to the JL marketers, you are true angels).

You know when you're sat in the cinema not watching a particularly sad film and a girl a few rows back starts crying, or you're at a wedding and you look at the other end of the aisle and you see some woman sobbing into a tissue, or maybe you have a friend who you can't watch any film with because you are scared you will drown in their tears?......... Well, I am that friend. 

Admittedly, my emotion seems to be drawn from other peoples misfortune (fictional or otherwise), be it a film, the news, a play... I will find something to cry about. Me and my ex-boyfriend, went to see Monsters University, happily munching our popcorn and drinking our coke as the adverts came on. Our excitement began to brew when I saw the little pixar lampshade hopping along, ready for the pre-film... and by the end of it, Tom was sat next to a sniffling, piggy eyed mess. 

I think the day I realised I had a default in my ability to keep in the waterworks, came with the biggest sob-film ever in the world ever.... Titanic (although maybe The Notebook is on par). Titanic is one of those rare films I can watch, and know that I will not be the only person holding back tears at the end. However, in my case things went a step further. I had watched Titanic, my emotions had over flown and I had quite literally drenched my friends shoulder in my own tears and snot. I had gone to bed red eyed and squinty, exhausted from how much crying I had done in the space of about half an hour and religiously reminded myself it is JUST as film, Jack Dawson does not exist. 

My room, is next door to the upstairs living room. So unless the volume is on 0, I can hear pretty much anything. A couple of days post-Titanic sobbing, I was sat in my room doing some coursework, completely oblivious to my little sister, who in the next room, was putting on Titanic for herself. Literally, all it took was the first bar of the opening song, and I was sat on my bed, alone, crying like a baby.


Due to my best friend having the emotion of a teaspoon when it comes to films and plays etc, I have had to come up with the defence that being emotional is due to my empathetic personality. However, I am fully aware of how annoying it is and although I am normally not a loud sobber (not too loud anyway), I am told during almost every cinema trip how weird I am for crying. 

So, next time you're watching a film, please spare a moment of thought before chucking your popcorn at the head of the girl sitting in front of you crying over a fictional characters misfortune... as it is probably me.

Ciao for now! x


5 November 2013


Over the summer, I went through a 'break up', not your typical 'he dumps her/she dumps him' thing, but it was a break up none the less. The problem we had was that we didn't want to break up with each other. But we were both going travelling and knew that it would be stupid to be in a long distance relationship when we were both off, doing new exciting things. So that is how I found myself, on the day I was catching my plane to Istanbul, an hour before my 2 best friends arrived, in bed, in stage 1 of the break up.

Stage 1, was the crying. Crying, sobbing, sniffling, those  inwards breaths that get caught in the back of your throat and make you feel like you're having a miniature heart attack. You hide in your bed and when anyone comes to see you, you just turn over dramatically, wave a hand at them to show you are still very much alive, and send them on their way. You may also have a look at photographs or think of things that you used to do together, just to make life that little bit harder. You watch films, LOTS of films, Pretty Woman, Never Been Kissed, The Notebook, all films that make you feel that little bit more alone. And, providing you are not one of those gals that loses their appetite when they've broken up with someone (I am definitely not that girl), you eat. Copious amounts of chocolate, that you have sent people out to buy for you, and very often you drink wine. Or maybe vodka if you're feeling that bad.

Funny Breakup Ecard: I'll be publicly sobbing for the next few weeks.

Stage 2 is always a little bit (a lot) of a risk.. you lose your inhibitions, you go wild and free, your friends tell you 'HEY, ALICE, YOU DON'T NEED NO MAN' and you definitely believe them. And thus comes, the rebound (optional plural choice here). Your friends come round, they drag you out of bed, force some clothes on you, make you shower, brush your teeth... things that haven't happened for a long while. They chuck out the empty chocolate wrappers and ice cream tubs, and put a bit of lippy on you. What a transformation. You look in the mirror and think, 'F**k XXXXXX, I don't need him' and you embark into the night. Ready to pounce on just about anyone and anything.

Please note that this is not always as fun as you think it may be. Sadly I fell into the 'plural' category and one of my rebounds resulted in the most awkward sexual moment of my life. His name was Hugo, he occasionally wore a headband (need I say more), and as I dropped the lid to his bottle of water and bent down to get it, I lifted my head to see him about an centimetre away from me, as he said 'Fuck the lid' in a low, fake, gravelly voice that definitely did not belong to him, and proceeded to attack me with his mouth.

Let that be a lesson ladies, rebounds are rubbish. Unless they result in really great sex.
Funny Flirting Ecard: I need a hug that results in wild sex.

Stage 3 brings out the worst in almost anyone. This is when you blame and get angry. After several attempts of getting over him, it's not working, you can't seem to settle for someone else, so you decide that this is someone's fault and obviously, it is his. So you take to Facebook and search and search and search for something that will make him look at fault, even when he's not. You try to convince yourself he is the bad one, you don't need him.... Sophie Jones has liked more than one facebook status.... bingo. CLEARLY he has moved on already... 3 facebook status likes? That is too much to be just a friendship. And so it continues on this long and windy road of facebook stalking, (real life stalking), asking his friends, until finally 

Stage 4 the realisation. Stage 4 is the best stage. And although sometimes is can take weeks or months, when you finally get there, it is a massive sigh of relief. You feel light and fluffy and finally you realise there really up plenty more fish in the sea (or attractive, decent guys). Stage 4 comes from weeks of going through the other stages, all the subconscious building up until BAM suddenly, you notice you haven't looked on his facebook for a while, you notice, actually, that guy at college/uni/work, is pretty hot and you realise the little knot in your stomach of guilt every time you are attracted to someone else is gone. Thank god for Stage 4, because it makes all the other stages feel that little bit worth it. 

Ciao for Now 

You will grow emotionally from months of bone-crushing agony


14 October 2013

Weekend in Leeds

Since embarking into the life of the gap year student, I have done, well, nothing. Being a waitress means my days have consisted of getting up at noon, watching some great (or horrendous, depending on how you see it) day time TV, filling out a line or two of university applications, eating and then going to work. At least, something a long those lines. 

However, this weekend I did a strange and extraordinary thing, I decided to leave the confinements of my little Dorset town, and head into the big wide world of cities. Namely, Bristol and Leeds. For those of you who don't know, Bristol is in the south west, about an hour north of me, and Leeds is in the north... middle-y bit... there's some accuracy for you. 

Thursday was my friend Charley's 21st birthday, thus I caught the train up, expecting a fair bit of drinking, a lot of food, and a lot of presents. And I was most definitely not disappointed. By midday we were hitting the cocktails (*please note, I just like the odd drink...) and had eaten some divine foods... definitely not Wetherspoons or anything... 

After a lovely night of wining and perhaps a bit too much dining, we collapsed into her extra comfy bed, whilst I contemplated suffocating myself on the pillows at the thought of my coach journey the next morning.

However, in the morning the excitement of seeing Emily in Leeds overcame the nausea I felt for sitting on a coach for 6 hours, plus the fact I knew I had to get over it as I had a 10 hour coach journey home. So, after legging it to the station as I was (of course) running late, I found myself waiting in line in front of a very very very VERY tall dark and handsome stranger. These types do not come along very often, as most of us girls know, and although a coach station may not be the most romantic meeting place for my future husband, when he looks like that, you will take anything. After find a good coaching position (not too far forward, not too far back) I noticed that said man was sat in the seats opposite me. Of course, I was nervous and excited, could this be the man of my dreams, could this be the bloke they talk about? He certainly looked good enough.

No longer had these thoughts passed my mind then they were crushed in the shape of a tall, blonde, stick insect like girl with a face that made me think she was a human unicorn. She saw my man and within a matter of seconds was sat next to him. For the next six hours, I sat opposite the two of them chirping away like the happy little effing elves. 

Not even bitter.

The rest of my weekend was spent drinking, watching Grey's Anatomy (usually in bed with Emily, whilst severely hungover), shopping, and playing Singstar, maybe a bit too competetively, with the rest of her house mates. A game which, if you wanted to know, I am Queen of.

Ciao for now! x


18 September 2013

The Trials and Tribulations of Sisterhood

I spent my whole 'childhood' (it is depressing I can actually use that word now) wishing I could be an only child. Me and my little sister would fight and fight and fight until eventually a parent, who had probably lost a quick game of rock paper scissors, would storm in and drag one of us, kicking and screaming, into a separate room of the house. Now, I would like to say this was a very rare occasion. But I am talking day in, day out, me and Sarah would be arguing, pulling hair, she even slapped me so hard on the knee once that it left a hand mark for 3 days.

I don't want you to get the wrong impression about us as individuals. As a person, I (well, I like to think) am laid back and go with the flow. In fact, I avoid confrontation at all costs. But siblings have a rivalry that is unlike any other.

Growing up with someone a couple of years younger than you is always going to have its ups and downs. But when I was younger, I ALSO had to contend with Sarah being the petite-blonde-who-did-gymnastics, whilst I was the heffer who couldn't walk for longer than 10 minutes without falling over... and cart wheels or handstands? Don't even get me started on my inability to do them...

Luckily, being the eldest, bossiest, and biggest child, meant I did have a few years of power over my younger sibling... a highlight of my childhood was a game called 'Sarah the Slave' in which we made me a den out of cushions at the bottom of our parents wardrobe, I would crawl in and sit there, sometimes for about an hour, whilst I ordered Sarah to bring me things... generally this involved food (heffer child, remember!) and drink. Sadly, this came to an abrupt end, when Sarah started to realise that this wasn't technically fair... and I was too stubborn to let her be the Queen, so my 'reign' came crashing down fairly quickly.

Once Sarah was old enough to stand up for herself, instead of me being the bossy (and yes, bratty), older
sister, things started to take a turn for the worse. And with our teenage years, came the 'stealing' phase. No, we didn't don hoodies and creep into shops on missions of theft... Instead, we stole from each other. Clothes, jewellery, make up, shoes, perfume... all under the same roof, but never where you left it. The endless tantrums, hissy fits, shouting matches and fights that came from 'who stole what' arguments, I am surprised my parents didn't take everything off us, although this was threatened on many occasions- ye olde 'I'll put both of your stuff in a black bag and take it to the charity shop if you don't shut up' trick.

Please don't get me wrong, this phase is definitely a current one. However at 16 and 18, the days of running to parents are long gone, and instead our personal items are used as a method to keep things from them... a classic example of this would be me turning up at 4am, ridiculously sloshed and no key. Calling my parents and waking them up would be an option, if I wanted a grudge held against me forever. So instead I call up Sarah, who is sound asleep, and ask her if she'll sneak down and open the door. Of course her immediate answer is 'no', fully knowing I would never hear the end of it from mum and dad. This is when I use the 'If you do I'll buy you alcohol for your next party' trick (this never fails for under 18 year olds), and before you know it she is at the door. With age, comes secrets and with secrets, comes a whole lot of blackmail (mwahahahahahahahaha).

About 10 years on from 'Sarah the Slave' I think it is safe to say we have moved on from the 'launch an unsuspecting attack at whoever has the remote control' days. But these are not something I will never look at un-fondly, because however annoying, grumpy, rude, painful and just downright stubborn sisters can be, I have come to the realisation that we are stuck with each other, and despite EVERYTHING I just said in this blog, I would not have it any other way.


Ciao for Now! x


16 September 2013

Informal Introductions

This is definitely going to be your stereotypical 'Introduction to Alice' type of blog post,
everyone has a secret one somewhere I'm sure of it, and I think I'd rather get
mine out of the way!

As you may have gathered, my name is Alice and right now, I am mulling around in the world with not really much to do. This time a year ago, I started my final year of sixth form and was embarking upon a world of 'UCAS' (the application process here in the UK), universities and personal statements. I had a look around a few, chose the 5 I liked the most and hey presto! I had a place at University.

I WISH it was hey presto,  I really do. But the honest truth is, those few months of  picking universities, trudging around them with a parent in tow, going to lectures on subjects I didn't even like, they were some of the worst months I can remember (get on your snorkel and flippers- we're about to get deep). I had NO idea what I wanted to do at university, and eventually I settled on English at Swansea... because I wanted to  because my parents wanted me to go. I always knew I did want to go to University, but what my family and friends never understood, is that I just wasn't ready yet.

Fast forward 12 months, and whilst all the rest of my friends are doing the big 'Ikea shop' in preparation to move into their Uni halls... I am currently sat on my bed, eating a giant Toblerone, without a single care in the world... having withdrawn my application in June.

Honestly, it was the best decision I ever could have made. I now have my A Level results back, where, I actually achieved higher than my predicted grades (just wanted to throw that out there) (screw you school)...I have just got back from 5 weeks travelling (a blog post on that will come soon, just you wait) I have a year on my hands, a part time job (if you like Pizza Express, I'm ya gal), a job in Italy from January and now a new found blog... So for the first time in a long time, life is looking very promising and I will be sharing as much of it as possible with you, please stay tuned!

Ciao for now! x


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