No light decision to go blonde..

Ok so as I've mentioned to you before, I've always been a brunette longing for blonde locks, and it was this week I decided it was time to do something about it. With the help of a highlighting kit from good old Asda, and the patience of my lovely housie Becki, we completed a transformation..

After several previous attempts at doing this through hairdressers and their pricey price lists, I honestly think this home kit is the best yet!

Hope you like :)

If its true when they say "Blondes have more fun" then I'm very much looking forward to the next few weeks!

Writers blog, and block

So it seems to be that time where I'm finding it impossible to do anything productive, apart from post to you guys. Its safe to say with all the work piling sky high and deadlines fast approaching that I STILL spend days staring out of the window, watching X factor and tidying my room - all to avoid putting pen to paper and getting on with it.

It's understandable really, what with the festive season upon us when all we want to do is go shopping and get into the spirit of hopefully a white Christmas, (I say "we" for some small reassurance that I am not the only one struggling with writers block??)

However, this being said, I did manage to be constructive enough to do a shoot for magazine photography the other day. Here's some shots of the beautiful Josie..

Location Shoot -

Portrait and Fashion Shoot -

Hope you liiiiiike :)

‘The diary of an unlucky charm’

Firstly, I’d like to dedicate this post to three girls, as without their reckless antics to accompany my own, this post would not have been possible - they know exactly who they are! They say bad things happen in threes.. or in our case, thirty threes perhaps?

Secondly, this is for the reader who believes luck is never on their side, that they are the only ones that seem to endure a number of misfortunes one after the other. I’d like to take this opportunity and state that we too, seem to be equally unlucky charms.

It’s that time of year for us where 21 is becoming the new 18, the connotation being much more mature, level headed and all in all less dramatic individuals! So when an invitation to visit Oxford Brooks alongside a night out in Leeds celebrating the coming of age for a certain someone, I thought, why not!?

You know you’ve had an eventful four days when a road trip up north finds you asking policeman for directions, taxi drivers for jump leads and kebab men for more mayo.

For those patient enough to read below, let me talk you through it.

Friday 22^nd October

2.15pm.

Board the train. The silent carriage. Struggle to find ‘reserved seating.’ Continue to cause disruption when shouting out a word you probably shouldn’t when in the company of a three year old. Note to self, ‘do not drop the ipod.’

3.45pm.

Arrive at destination, just. After settling into the world of the now safe ipod, become oblivious to the sign ‘Welcome to Oxford.’ A mere chance glance out the window prevents ending up in Manchester. Meet and greet Louise and her fabulous housemates.

5pm.

Birthday dinner at Atomic Burger. Best burger bar by far. However, pleased not to have ordered ‘Godzilla Burger,’ a challenge previously only succeeded by a number of thirty. After a small taste it becomes clear why. NOONES taste buds should have to experience that amount of burning in one sitting. Bravo boys.

11pm.

On it Oxford style. Refreshing game of Goon Pong and naked apron sittings, followed by a hectic night out at ‘Kukui.’ Stamp rape is just the beginning.. drinks all round!

Saturday 23^rd October

9pm.

Hangovers all round. Not feeling too spritely as the alarm makes its debut. Pack, load and off to Leeds. Roadtrip!

1pm.

Set off time. Alcohol? Check. Heels? Check. Sat-nav/map? “Urghhhh!” Half an hour in, stop for directions. Should have predicated going back on ourselves for the duration of 40 minutes. Seeing on a map just how far there is to go is no mood lifter.

5.30pm.

Arrive outside ‘house on corner, black door.’ Desperate for the loo, no one home, the evitable happens. Bush? Check. Wrong house. Shit. Fiiiinally meet and greet Tasha and her fabulous housemates.

8pm.

Lotsss of pre-drinking. Strip-tease for the birthday girl.. and any other prying eyes. Its no surprise a room of eight soared to a guestimated thirty. Queue Louise, spilt vino, and a glass table - what do you get? Enough shattered glass to clear the room. Back to the original eight.

12pm.

‘Faversham’ Leeds with more alcohol and music. Dancing and bambi legs. Chicken burger with “MORE MAYO.” Bed. Awesome!

Sunday 24th October

12pm.

In the car. Off to compose the birthday girls present. Phonecall from the girl in question. “We’ve broken down.” We bought more time – lots more time in fact. Battery fails when the time comes to leave the car park we adopted for such creativity to commence. Hero’s would include taxi driver x2, jump leads, and some pushing power.

2pm.

Arrive back at house, eager to see the girl we had travelled so far to see. Queue Georgia, my wrist and the car door. Back in the car - A&E it is. Unfortunately none of the five medics living in the house were in.

3pm.

Refused the hideous wait presented on arrival at accident and emergency. Once more back to the house to present another part of the present. Already on Tasha’s wrist. Exchange it is then.

10pm.

After curry, Michael McIntyre and goodbyes, back in the car for the ride back to Oxford. Longggg ride back to Oxford. Lost again, petrol station, map, directions.

Monday 25^th October.

2am.

Journey complete.

And that’s about it. Ohhh apart from walking into a hanging carcass at the Oxford market the following day. I’m proud to say Monday’s tour of rower’s and the surroundings of the university went rather well. Casual beer by the river, tipsy by lunchtime, standard. More goodbyes, back on the train.. HOME!!

They say bad things happen in threes.. or in our case, thirty threes perhaps? There is no perhaps about it. 

Almost 21 – the key to the door.. or the dance floor?

Firstly I’d like to apologise for my severe lack of posts - despite my full intention and promise to do the opposite. However, now that I am fully settled into the house (that’s right, I’m actually sleeping again), the transfer anddd adapting to the hideous amount of work second year brings, there actually is NO excuse.

And so I present to you both my fear, and excitement of the fast approaching 21^st birthday!

It’s less than a month away and as the title suggests I am a little unsure as to what to think. Hopeful celebrations include hitting the dance floor, most DEFINATELY champers (preferably of the pink variety) and probably NOT getting my key in the door. I get butterflies thinking about putting on the dress that presently hangs on my wall, ready and waiting. An the idea of another one of my mums classic homemade cakes :)

Along with that, however, comes another feeling of butterflies – just not the excited kind.

It may sound strange what with countless underager’s buzzing to be either sweet sixteen, rebellious eighteen or a content twenty-one, and I was no exception. Constantly older relations would plead, “don’t wish your life away,” but like every little girl wanting to grow up, such advice was naively brushed aside. It’s that naivety I miss now. It suddenly hits you when you tell your younger cousin a month before HER big one eight not to ‘wish her life away.’

After flicking through ancient photo albums it became apparent (as obvious as it may sound to those of you more sane), that you can never relive or learn anymore from that moment in front of the camera, on that exact day, than you did whilst standing there. That being said, perhaps it’s not a bad thing. If I hadn’t lived out those moments, I wouldn’t know what I do today. Suddenly the thought of ‘young, fun and living with mum’ springs to mind, just because those are the times our camera happened to flash. And that I suppose is the silver lining. It’s easy to look back and wonder what you could have done differently, but the fact is, you’ll never get the chance. It’s a shame it’s taken me almost twenty years to come to this conclusion.

I’ve always been the impatient kind who reads the last page of the book, before the first, and that’s where I think I’ve been going wrong. No longer will I try to fast forward through life.. I’m learning from mistakes, and how not to make them again.

Almost 21.. sounds like fun.

I look forward to being ‘thirty, flirty and thriving’ just not yet ;)