What I watched; sex, stalkers, Sunny.

So you all know my long running series Recent Reads, yes? Well, here’s a TV version of that! Original, I know. Anyway, let’s crack on with my latest recs – and non-recs… 

Harv, loving 'Sex Education'.

An old home.

It’s always different, when I go back to my old home. And I don’t just mean the changes to the high street – clothes store turned fancy restaurant here, yet another hipster cafe there, shiny automatic doors installed in the ancient shopping centre – I mean the way it makes me feel every time I return. Yes, sometimes I do swallow a lump in my throat seeing an old favourite shop is no longer there, but more often than not I don't care. I can feel a distinct excitement when I browse in a certain bookshop, but then other times it's just another branch.

I can always count on certain things, though. Walking through the town's monthly vintage market still makes me smile. Peeking into the cinema bar gives me a smack of nostalgia. And I think walking down the path towards the cathedral, looking up at that beautiful building I sat with when I was sad, explored with family and friends, took countless photos of and eventually got to graduate in, will always make me tearful.

'Come From Away'; a review.

On Tuesday 5^th of February, I was lucky enough to be able to see ‘Come From Away’, a brilliant new musical that’s just landed in London! 

This show tells the story of the people flying over America on the 11^th of September 2001, who had their journeys drastically derailed and ended up landing somewhere very unexpected... 

'How are you?'

I'm fine. 

That's what you say, isn't it? Well, what if I actually answered your question honestly? We'd be here a while. You might need to grab a cuppa. Ready? Here we go... 


I'm restless. 

My 2019 is going to be big. I can feel it. I've made my little resolutions, started scribbling in my new diary, put the changes in motion; I'm letting myself get excited, and hope. 

(Photo: Erin Veness)

I’m impatient. 

My face is still ‘in progress’; it’s healed infinite amounts since my surgery in September, and yet I’m still far from satisfied. I’m self-conscious, I’m sad, and I’m swollen. Every day I’m checking in the mirror, frowning at myself, actually willing wrinkles to appear and dying to see any kind of change. I’m told to wait at least six months. I cannot accept that that’s not now. People tell me they don’t notice, and really, that hurts to hear when it’s not prefaced with a ‘I know you’re not happy/this won’t help’. Because it makes me feel I’m making a fuss over nothing. 

Stub out your smoking habit. *

Waterstones Piccadilly; a little love story.

It was the summer of 2015, when I first went there. I was not long out the woods after my second brain surgery – in fact, that very day I’d had an aspiration intended to remove the excess CSF fluid that was leaking through my skull and into my face, mmm – and I was in a pretty foul mood, generally, as I’d been signed off work and was genuinely missing making coffee every day for customers who would normally irritate me no end with their requests for skinny milk but extra whipped cream, or a wet cappuccino with no chocolate on top. 

(source)

Hello, 2019.

Ooh, look out, it’s not just another big list-type post from me on here but also fits nicely into that cheesy blogger category of New Year New Me #goals Manifest Destiny shizz. (not attacking there, I’m just a little tired of that whole theme being re-hashed every January… oh no wait, I’m about to do it. Sh*t.) 

(Photo: Erin Veness)

2018, in my measurements.

There’s this little known song from a like, totally obscure musical you probably haven’t heard of idk, that asks us, the audience, how we measure a year. In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee…?