Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older

No, it wouldn’t. I’m happy at 29 thanks, Beach Boys.

Fun fact, Wilson Philips covered that song and it sounds like a festive jingle for Argos. That’s the problem with faultless harmonies, y’all sound like a Christmas Carol if you’re not careful.

Anyway, here I am. I’m just about to take some time off from work to not go on holiday. Simply desperate to have a break, yet too lazy to organise a holiday outside of my flat. I’ve yet to plan my four days of freedom, but I reckon it will include:


More gaming

A bit more gaming

Halloween art

And another dose of gaming


Watching new bake off from behind the sofa.

I’ve taken to listening to Mariah Carey – Emotions, when writing. I find her subhuman range extremely motivating, and it pushes me to write and write and write. Semi coherently.

This morning I am in The Diner, Ganton Street looking like a damn hipster waiting for Ajeet. Typing away at my shitty blog on my iPad, drinking a damn flat white and a Bellini, what has my life become? Actually, it’s starting to feel more of a life, actually leaving the house on the weekend further than 1 mile away feels fab, it’s been a tough 6 months.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been busy on my weekends. But not many mornings like this. I could get used to it, a lady who brunches with fabulous people. A lady who sits in coffee shops all day working on her magnum opus “500 toppings that work on toast”. A lady who knows all the words to Baby got back but doesn’t embarrass herself in public by singing it. Yes. I could be her.

Yet, I am instead a pretty much a teenage boy with regular sized boobs, wearing a Zelda Tshirt (hiding said boobs) with messy (but not in a hot way) hair, listening to early 90’s music.

Ah, it’s not so bad. If I was well behaved I wouldn’t be drinking booze before 11am.

Loves xoxo


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