Okay, the title edges a little over the bitch line. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of Britney… but it does sort of illustrate the past month I’ve had in an oh-so-sophie hyperbolic fashion…
I moved out of Cardiff. How do you go from living with 9 girls in what I can only describe as an oversized orphanage/lunatic asylum right by the city of Cardiff to living in your tiny little home, with your family, a 20 minute drive from anywhere of acceptable civilisation?? I feel like I’m stranded in The Hills Have Eyes or in Wrong Turn or something. Now all I’m left with are the questions inside my head…
- Who will fake tan my back when I am not feeling flexible enough?
- Who’s wardrobe can I raid when they go home for the weekend?
- Who will be my other half when it’s dominos two for tuesdays?
- Who will sit with me hungover and watch marathons of Kardashians and toddlers and tiaras on repeat with me whilst stroking my hair?
I have a job lined up in London. Only a little part time thing to fund the absolute necessities of makeup, nails, dresses, lingerie, new shoes, bags, some jeans, some books, magazines, magazines, shoes, lingerie, bags, shoes, shoes… shoes.
Saying goodbye… a million times… to everyone
Saying goodbye is always the hardest thing. It’s far too emotional for me to deal with. It makes me feel a little awkward… I’m the kind of person who would rather say “nice seeing you, lets do lunch next week!’…
And then I’m gone.
I know that’s cowardly, but it is easier.
Saying goodbye to the girls gave me the most grotesque lump in the middle of my chest like I’d bitten off and swallowed a really large chunk of a crusty baguette and it got stuck on the way down. But Juli, my housemate, just told me that in a way feeling sad is actually a good thing, because it shows how close we all are and how much we all really love each other. And she’s right.
I got offered places on both of the Masters courses in Fashion Journalism that I applied for! How did this happen? Is some secret divine light shining on me? I don’t care. I am completely elated. I love learning, I love writing, and I really cant wait for the course to start. Ohhhhh and rejoice for another year of student discount…
University Results. I’m graduating with a 2.1! It’s great, it’s not spectacular, but I’m happy. Proof of the work hard play hard theory.
London weekend and festival guestlister. No, not Glasto unfortunately. That would be the dream, wouldn’t it? But I did end up at Hard Rock Calling festival on the Saturday, for free. Less than 24 hours after twitter moaning how much I wanted to see Kasabian again.
Everything began to steady up towards the end of the month, like Britney when she grew her hair back and stopped drinking quite as many Frappacinos a day. But I’m still hoping what’s left to come of my summer and the changes in the next few months is more successful than Britneys career ‘comeback’. Does anyone even remember the name of her last album anyway?