I am the child, and also my mother.

Recently, on a walk home, I saw a young boy run out of his house and hide behind his garden wall. I thought several things… Firstly, Is he alright? Does his mum know? I severely hoped that there wasn’t any predators crawling around, (Who knows…) Anyway, while walking down the street thinking these things, it hit me. I am that child. I am very much that child. Crouching desperately behind a less than adequate wall ( symbolic of my procrastination) in an attempt to hide from my big scary problems. Well, really my privileged first world problems, but my education system hasn’t really taught me a great deal else. I hide, knowing the inevitability of being caught, by deadlines, moaning teachers and my own guilt, and I shut my eyes and hope for the best. Only to be met for the awful realisation that I am actually the mother. Slightly scared, anxious and ultimately irritated that I have hid for so long, rather than just getting on with life and facing the fact that ‘it has to be done.’ The child in me is left recovering, clutching a slightly sore cheek, and the mother that I am so frequently likened to is giving me the lecture that it’s not just me I’ve let down, it’s the whole family. Which is also me in this situation… How odd.



Glasses problems…


I recently got glasses, and I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling a little mixed about it.


-Glorious glasses selfies… Ah the benefits of non reflective glasses…

-Better vision. I’d just like to point out that I thought to put selfies before better eyesight…

-Being able to insult people when pushing them up onto your nose with the middle finger. Ha. (only joking) (sorta)

-I’ve found people look at my frames rather than in to my eyes when talking to me, and I love that. A, I have a little phobia of eyes and the less I have to look at them the better, and B, NO AWKWARD EYE CONTACT! HUZZAH!


-My nose has been bloomin’ tingling ever since I’ve gotten them and I really feel like I should be in bewitched…

-When I don’t have them on I LITERALLY see the frames on my face! I mean great, slightly better eyesight, but less of the hallucinations please

-Looking like the Princess from the Princess diary before her transformation when I leave my hair naturally…

-Laying down watching Netflix is IMPOSSIBLE. Netflix = life which means that glasses = making life impossible. I can feel your judging… I got a C in maths… please stop


My Bucket List: Colour runs, Theatre and books.

  1. I want to see Wicked in theatre. I mean, I want to see everything, but particularly wicked
  2. I want to go to Rome. I’ve always loved the idea of living there, and after watching ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ I’m so excited by the idea. I would be surrounded by ice cream and pizza, how can that be a bad thing?
  3. I want to write a book. I would love to do this, and I’ve already written a large chunk of a short story about two goblins. Stay tuned…
  4. I want to play Eponine in Les Mis. Such a massive, massive goal. I could rant and rant for bloomin’ hours about how badly I want to do this, but I shaln’t… (for your sake/well being)
  5. I want to travel in New York. It’s the heart of musical theatre, and I would love to go there. Or even work there!
  6. I want to be a Disney Princess. While singing the ‘Little Mermaid’ soundtrack in the shower is great an all, working in Disney Land would be a dream. Imagine the positivity and happiness just singing 24/7 and dancing around!
  7. I want to get better at sewing. You have NO IDEA how many times I’ve vowed to “knit/sew myself a blanket.” Roughly 12 million times. One day…
  8. I want to drive.
  9. I want to do a sky dive
  10. I want to do a colour run, and this is actually going to be ticked off my bucket list in June! On June 13th a friend of mine and I have signed up to do a “colour rush”, where not only is it a colour run, there’s a massive obstacle course too! So excited. And we get free t-shirts. FREE T-SHIRTS!!! These are pictures from their website of last year. My friend is asthmatic, and I can’t help but think running a marathon AND breathing in powder is a good idea… But it will certainly be great fun.



What are yours?


Creative writing: Penny

Penny was brown. Well, not physically brown, but she practically dribbled warm caramel onto whatever surface she had touched. Which is ironic, because it seemed as though she was completely untouched, with only a few pale freckles dotted across her snow like skin. She had the eyes of a Doe, deep as an abyss, yet when you looked close enough they seemed to soften, with both compassion and kindness melting in her irises. The delicate, yet angular,  tortoiseshell frames were nothing more than protection. Yes, protection from UV rays and poor eye sight, but also a barrier, if anything dared come close enough to try and spoil her precious peepers. Her lips were an exceptions to the abundance of her toasted characteristics. While the rest of her seemed in such familiar correspondence with Autumn, Summer epitomised her lips. Children with puffed, rosy cheeks admiring a  bright magenta sunset would seem grey, in comparison to her cushioned, pillowed lips. Penny’s lips…

Black was a colour too harsh to describe Penny… But take this as a warning from me to you. If you have any intention of getting ‘One Up’ over her, think again. She doesn’t need black. It’s like when you’ve misbehaved as a child, you know you’re in an infinite amount of trouble when your parents don’t shout, but rather whisper your eternal punishment, leaving every hair on your body erect and surrounded by little bumps. Brown to me, in the past, had been painful. It can sting.  For example, the rustic axe handle that had been swung, only to be met my the bridge of my nose and a pair or watering eyes. Or the tea coloured envelop containing my awful grades which I had so dreaded giving to my parents… But most of all, the dark mahogany door that had been slammed, after the words “never come back” had been expelled into the air. Brown could definitely sting…

Penny was good to me. Kind. She took me in when I had nowhere to go, and used her sticky caramel to mend my shattered, obliterated ticker. Funnily enough, it was that which had killed her. The brown, the loneliness, me…  All of it. I think she gave up too much of her own heart, trying to plump  up up mine. That’s what made it so easy for the rigid rope to squeeze the remaining life out of hers… As Autumn moves to Winter, life moves to death. It’s been a week. Maybe four… But either way, all I have now is my promise to Penny. I’m going to do it. I have to do it.

For Penny.

I’m going to kill her son.

Yay! I had such fun writing this! I thought of the idea yesterday, and I thought I should practise! Writing a book is such an aspiration of mine, I’d love to. And also I’m taking English Lit right now and I don’t think you can ever have too much creative writing. Anyway, while this is just a first draft, I’d love to have ANY constructive criticism anyone has for me. Thanks for reading.


Theatre commandments!

This is inspired by one of my all time favourite tumblr pages, (have a ‘lil google, tis great), and I thought I’d write some of my own. I’ve always loved theatre and I’ve studied it for a year now, and these are just a few things I’ve learnt along the way…

1) THOU SHALT NOT BE LATE. Seriously. To be on time, is to be late. Our director gave us a whole spiel about it and basically said “the fastest way to make sure you don’t have a career in acting is to be late.”

2)THOU SHALT ALWAYS HAVE LEARNT ALL OF ONES LINES WELL BEFORE OPENING NIGHT. Once I was playing Celia from Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’, and hadn’t learnt my lines. During a tech run I froze, forgot them, and subsequently SOBBED on stage in front of everyone. dammit….

3)THOU SHALT NOT GET BUTT- HURT WHEN THOU DOESN’T GET THE ROLE. Everyone hates this person. There is a particular girl I know who literally believes that she is the re-incarnation of Jesus himself, and deserves all roles. Gah

4) HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE AN ANGRY DIRECTOR/STAGE MANAGER. Our school is quite fortunate to have a very experienced director, Mr Foster. While this is all great, if you either: forget lines/mock the stage manager or remotely upset him… May the devil take pity on your poor unfortunate soul… (Little Mermaid anyone?!)

4)THOU SHALT NEVER SPRAY PERFUME BACKSTAGE. In the wings, (which are fairly tiny) we have to do quick changes and a lot of waiting around for our next scenes. While nerves are bad enough, I don’t want to be choking on your friggen aromas…

5) THOU SHALT ALWAYS BREAK A LEG. Whether your hair has caught fire, or your costume has completely split, the show must go on.

And that’s showbiz… Kid. (I couldn’t very well not have that line from Chicago in there, such a classic!)


Thoughts on make up…

Most of us, at some point, will end up wearing make-up. Whether it’s because you’re a thespian like me and have to wear it under stage lights, or your girlfriend/sister is pestering you to put mascara on because “BAAABE, your lashes are SO good though!” Or perhaps you just want to for the heck of it, let’s not be too gender stereotypical… Anyway, I’ve always thought it somewhat of a weird thing to do. Why is it (as a species) we feel the need to smear things on our face in an attempt to be perceived (or feel) more attractive? WHY IS A LONGER EYELASH “ATTRACTIVE”?! I constantly ask my self this, but then shrug, sigh because of societal expectations and then continue to swirl on some blush.

I wear make up for several reasons. One, being I like it. I think it’s interesting to try new things and I was having a discussion the other day about black lipstick. Cool! Another reason being, because I’m used to it. Its my comfort zone, and I’m one of those creatures that doesn’t like being pushed out of it too often. I’ll be honest, this is my main reason. It’s like anything thought, the more you do it, the more comfortable you will be with it. Therefore, becoming more comfortable with my “make up face” = being equally as uncomfortable being make up free. Interesting.

Going back to my opening paragraph, about the concept of applying it “strange”, isn’t it weird that I feel like I have to do it because I feel uncomfortable with my face, but also uncomfortable at the thought that I’m applying make up. I once watched a Youtube video about weight and body image by ‘JustKissMyFrog’, and she said: “I’m too clever to be the thin person, but I’m also too clever to be the fat person.” This resonated with me, and as much as I hate myself for thinking it, I do. In relation to make up, I feel like I’m too ‘clever’ to be one of the girls who pile on their make-up and get shamed because of this, but I also feel too clever to be the make up free girl who gets told she looks “tired” all the time.

The resolution to this (to me) seems simple. STOP COMMENTING ON OTHER PEOPLES MAKE UP! We’re all guilty of this, and we do it because we’re conditioned to. Every advertisement, T.V programme, celebrity is constantly promoting this. This creates a standard that typically most women feel like they have to adhere to. Not too much or you might look “dumb” or “undesirable”. Not too little or people won’t be attracted to you and you look “tired”/”like a child.” Gah.

I’m not sure I can properly articulate all of my thoughts on this in a completely coherent way, but I think I may have got a few of them down there. I’d love to know other people’s thoughts on this, as it’s a subject that interests me a great deal.

(The cover image of this is of a glorious friend of mine, and one of the only pictures I have of us both not wearing make up!)

To my 11 year old self

While I’m only sixteen now,

I think I’ve learned some stuff,

From boys to books and make up looks,

so listen close you little scruff,

High school is only for a while,

Not an eternal hell,

So do your work, tuck in your shirt,

and it will be well worth your while,

Your frizzy hair and “boyish” looks,

admittedly, made quite the stir,

and there’s this awful, awful, photograph which I’m still tying to blur…

but just hang tight and read some books,

god knows they’re more important that your insignificant looks…

You’re far to young to worry about boys,

Mitchell really isn’t all that…

stop bribing him to play Facebook games,

you’re awful at crazy cabs,

Being friends with the “populars”,  is harder than it looks,

they’re all pregnant,

69p foundations, no aspirations,

hanging on to their every words like a fish to a hook,

Stop trying to be hermione granger,

we both know it’s all a joke,

but in a few years you’ll see the light,

and find some musical folk,

I wish you’d started piano when you said you’d wanted to,

now we’re quite behind,

but I know it’s what you want to do,

It’s been quite the learning curve, many mistakes at best

but if it weren’t for them we wouldn’t be here,

and it’s great – you’d never have guessed.

We’re doing good and singing lots

I hope that you are too

Love  from me at age sixteen,

I’m here, thanks to you.


I’m on the left. I couldn’t find a picture of me in year 7, but this is either year 8 or 9 I reckon!