Category Archives: Personal


“The fierce Dinosaur was trapped inside his cage of ice. Although it was cold he was happy in there. It was, after all, his cage.

Then along came the Lovely Other Dinosaur.
 The Lovely Other Dinosaur melted the Dinosaur’s cage with kind words and loving thoughts.


I like this Dinosaur thought the Lovely Other Dinosaur.
 Although he is fierce he is also tender and he is funny.
 He is also quite clever though I will not tell him this for now.

I like this Lovely Other Dinosaur, thought the Dinosaur. She is beautiful and she is different and she smells so nice.
 She is also a free spirit which is a quality I much admire in a dinosaur.

But he can be so distant and so peculiar at times, thought the Lovely Other Dinosaur. 
He is also overly fond of things.
 Are all Dinosaurs so overly fond of things?

But her mind skips from here to there so quickly thought the Dinosaur. She is also uncommonly keen on shopping.
 Are all Lovely Other Dinosaurs so uncommonly keen on shopping?

I will forgive his peculiarity and his concern for things, thought the Lovely Other Dinosaur. For they are part of what makes him a richly charactered individual.

I will forgive her skipping mind and her fondness for shopping, thought the Dinosaur. For she fills our life with beautiful thoughts and wonderful surprises. Besides, I am not unkeen on shopping either.

Now the Dinosaur and the Lovely Other Dinosaur are old.
 Look at them.
 Together they stand on the hill telling each other stories and feeling the warmth of the sun on their backs.

And that, my friends, is how it is with love. 
Let us all be Dinosaurs and Lovely Other Dinosaurs together.
 For the sun is warm.
 And the world is a beautiful place.”


Sometimes, It’s Hard. To Be. A Woman.

I started my period when I was 10 years old. I know 10 year old girls, and I can’t believe that at that age, I was beginning my journey into womanhood.

My breasts began to develop around that time and I didn’t like it. As one of the tallest girls in my class, I probably looked older than my nieve years.

I remember starting my period very vividly. I came home from school and went to the downstairs loo in my rush to get in front of the telly to watch Neighbours. Pulling down my knickers, skirt round my waist, I glanced down and all of a sudden, time stopped. The crotch of my white M&S briefs were daubed browny-crimson. I remember feeling my breathing get quicker, my face flush hot and sick. I called for my Mother.

Her face took on the mirror image of mine when she popped her head around the door. I was 10 years old. I’d been aged in single figures a few months before. This was something that happened to ladies. I asked her if I was OK. She said yes, and scrambled up stairs to get me some fresh undies. My eyes stung  with indignant and confounded tears.

My mind shot back to Neighbours, and how it would be on telly and I’d be missing it sitting in the toilet with bloody knickers. I remembered Hannah Martin, who’s Dad was Philip Martin and Mum was dead Julie Martin. She lived in the big house and was once kidnapped by a guy selling sweets.

Anyway, what was happening to me right that second had happened to Hannah at school, in front of everyone, only a few months before, and she’d had to tell her Dad about it, because of her dead Mum. It was all very embarrassing. My own Mum didn’t bother explaining the storyline at all. I knew the same thing was happening to me right now though. I would probably be dead soon.

My Mum brought me some new scants, whilst passing my Dad who was told what was going on, and proceeded to get as far away from the situation as was possible without making a scene or crying.

She’d managed to ring her best friend, who’s daughter very kindly gave me some pads to wear, which I was utterly horrified about. I was presented with a thick, long nappy and I didn’t fancy walking around with it between my legs. What if people knew it was there? What if I bent over and someone saw the outline of this pant-mattress I was being forced to wear?

From that day, until well into my Second or Third year at High School, the bain of my life was the paranoia that someone would see my sanitary pad, under my clothes. Sometimes I wore two pairs of pants. I even had slightly thicker black ‘period trousers’, which I wore when I was on. This was my first taste of the paranoia only women get when they begin to become ‘Women’. Unfounded, crazy, nutty-lady paranoia.

We didn’t go into massive detail about it, but I knew it was my period, and my Mum covered the basics. We bought some of my own pads, some wee wipe things and some more knickers just incase my drawer full of knickers wouldn’t suffice now that I was spewing blood from my vagina, even though I was now wearing pant-mattresses with flaps on the sides.

At 10 years old, in Primary 6, wearing a bra, I became a woman.

Love Ibiza?

Loads of exciting things have been happening to me lately, and one of them is writing for the fab website

I have been a fan of the site for a while, because I simply adore the island of Ibiza. As soon as someone tells me they’re going, I revel in imparting my knowledge because I want everyone to feel the same as I do about it. Pure hedonism.

On another note, I look forward to exploring the Island to its full potential in holidays to come. I’d love to visit Ibiza Town and really explore it, go to Cala Vadella and lie on the unspoilt sands and see what the fuss is about in Playa D’en Bossa.

For now though, I shall impart my partying wisdom on you all, and would love it if you kept up to date with my blog posts.

Find them HERE.


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Bus Tours, Horse Meat and Thunderstorms: Day Three in Milan

After the sweltering heat of Day Two, I decided to don a bit of a more summery outfit on our third day in beautiful Milano.

The human map decided that we should go on a bus tour today, the big red bus with ear phones that almost always never work, and usually get stuck on the German translation.

Rab smiley on the bus 🙂

I have been on the tour of Edinburgh when I was working there, and found it incredibly handy to get about and see all the most important attractions. This would be the best way for us to find our bearings in Milan.

We found out that this CitySightseeing Tour had two routes, which was great, because there are so many things to see of importance in Milan that one route would have taken hours. Paying our €20 each (just under £20 quid), we boarded the bus and climbed to the top deck with our wee red earphones.

La Scala

As we had got on at Duomo, the first stop was famous opera house, La Scala. It wasn’t as majestic as I had thought it might be, although later in the week we had the pleasure of seeing it lit up at night, where I expect is when it comes alive anyway. Teatro Alla Scala has been resident in Milan since 1778, and hosts some of the most famous and successful operas, ballets and recitals in the world, such as Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.

Along the road is Museo Poldi Pezzoli, home to the art collection of Gian Giacomo Poldi Pezzoli. To be honest, I only realised we had passed the museum when the day was over, because I had a slightly dodgy earphone situation. Home to a collection of mainly renaissance art, glassware, textiles and jewellery, I would love to visit here if I am lucky enough to go back to Milan.

Journing through the Fashion District, we got to see how the other half really live. One of the things I loved about Milan was how everyone seemed to be dressed to impress, at all times. At 7 o’clock in the evening, when all the banks, offices and shops close, the

Touring the City

metro is popping with ladies in sky high stilettos, strutting onto escalators and jostling for position on the heaving trains. Gianfranco Ferre and Dolce and Gabbana are as commonly there as River Island bags or Primark dresses are in Glasgow. The ladies look immaculately turned out, with perfectly set make up even after 12 hours sweating it out in the Milanese Stock Exchange. And, when they get too old to look good naturally, many of them are not adverse to a little nip/tuck.

The men are sharp. Classically beautiful, with groomed hair, sculpted beards and distinguished moustaches. The suits are designer, of course, the shoes are polished and perfect. You won’t regularly see a business man creasing his suit by carrying a backpack. Briefcases and Italian leather man-bags carry laptops and wallets. It’s such a different life, almost as if the people who work and play in the heart of Milan feel like they’d be doing the city an injustice by dressing down.

Through the beautiful gardens and stately homes of the Manin district (Napoleon actually lived there in the early 1800’s), we entered

Piccolo Theatre

Moscova, which is also easily accessible by Milan Metro. The Arena Civica, Milan’s early answer to the now world famous San Siro, can be seen here, still used today for small sporting events. Moscova is also home to Milan’s China Town, which we didn’t get to see too much of unfortunately!

Just off of Moscova is one of my favourite streets in Milan. We didn’t particularly notice much driving through, but later as we wandered around, we found a long street laden with beautiful shops and cafes, called Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi.

We decided to get off at the next stop, the Castello, to have a wander around.  After a stop off for our first taste of Italian gelato sitting outside the rather glamorous looking Piccolo Teatro in the sunshine.

Caramel and Tiramisu Gelato ❤

The Castello Sforzescowas a total undiscovered treasure for me. I’d had a good scout around websites to see what we could do in the city before we arrived, and I had never even heard of it. It really is breathtaking, the


grounds are beautiful. The massive fountain at the front of the castle adds even more magic. We walked through the courtyard where we could have went and looked at some of the original Lombardy paintings and sculptures, but we decided to keep going to get to the gardens.

On our way through we were accosted by a lady ranting about signing a petition for an anti-drugs campaign, which I did, and then realised you had to donate money! Cheeky cow! We threw a €5 note at her ex-junkie face and walked away. Scammed in Italy.

The gardens are simply stunning. We even saw a couple getting their wedding photos taken there, which would have been complete fairy-tale. Beats round the back of the Popinjay hotel anyway.

Castello Gardens

We ended up walking all the way back to my favourite street that I mentioned earlier, and it really is very cute. We found a wall which was written on in chalk, with ideas for what the derelict building could become. The ideas

I Wish This Building To Become...

ranged from bakery, to a library or swimming pool. I loved that concept! Although I imagine that the suggestions on the side of a building in Glasgow City Centre may need to be censored somewhat.

The bakeries in Milan are If you like cakes, which, lets face it, everyone does, then you will love love love the pasticceria’s of Milan. Cakes are displayed in the windows like proud trophies, each one packed with perfectly piped cream or custard, hand decorated with chocolate and fruit.

Massive cakes are available to buy, presumably for dinner parties or birthdays, and look delicious and

Yum 🙂

fresh, baked in store every day by very talented bakers. Greggs, these ain’t. We even found a charcuterie with loads of meat hanging from the ceiling. It looked amazing!

The tour certainly put us on the right path for touring Milan by foot for the rest of our trip. It’s hungry work, so we walked back to the Duomo square and stopped for lunch at a pizzeria in one of the side streets.

Pizza 🙂

Rab decided to be mental and try a Milanese pizza, with saffron and cheese, and some undesirable meat stuff. I went for something I rarely get to enjoy, because I rarely order a pizza for one and Rab refuses to eat it! Pizza con tonno. Absolutely bloody lovely, with some wine to boot (of course!).

Home to the hotel, we got ready for our evening out. Like I said in a previous post, the bar and nightclub culture is either very well hidden, or very rare in Milan, so we decided to look for somewhere to eat. We wandered back to the shopping district, and eventually settled on a buffet restaurant.

Shown to our table, we presumed it was a Chinese buffet, but on closer inspection, it seemed to be what I like to call a ‘freezer buffet’. This is when you have nothing in the house to eat, so you just take stuff out of the freezer

Plate O' Randomness

and blitz it all in the oven. Fish fingers, chicken dippers, spring rolls, oven chips, that kind of thing. This appeared to be the case when we approached the counters, filled with sushi, breads, veggies, potatoes, noodles, and just loads of stuff!

We then approached the meat bar, where you chose what you would like to eat and then had them cook it for you there and then. Swordfish, chicken, pork, horse. HORSE. Actual horse! I was a little repulsed at Black Beauty being served up but strangely intrigued to try it! I didn’t though, I’m not that cool.

Hot Chocolate

The experience was just weird really. Give me traditional Italian any day!

Walking back to the hotel, we felt a sudden change in the climate. Bearing in mind it was supposed to rain every day we were there, the heat had caused the threat of thunder.

Back in the hotel bar (where we put everything on a tab. Free drinks, until check out!), I had a hot chocolate, probably the sweetest drink I have ever had, and sat on the terrace listening to the thunder and observing an  American couple, the woman clearly with the man for his money. Certainly wasn’t his

Rainy Milano!


The heavens opened, and the rain came down in torrents, bouncing off the street. We watched from inside. Even the rain in Milan was beautiful!

So off to bed we go. We planned to go to Bergamo in the morning, hoping to see the town that we should have seen when we first arrived. Falling asleep to the sound of Italian politics shows was becoming quite relaxing!

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Stezzano to Milano!

Brekkie Buffet Italiano Style!

Day 2 of our trip started pretty well considering neither of us slept very well. It could have been the massive, rather firm bed. In my case it was probably excitement for our journey into beautiful Milan the next day.

We dressed for breakfast, and went down to find a buffet trolley set up. I LOVE buffet breakfasts, because usually, brekkie is a bit of toast of some eggs for me, and buffet breakfasts give you the chance to get a bit of everything on your plate. I used to work for a reviewing website for a living, and ever since then I have the overwhelming urge to take pictures of every single thing I eat and place I go to. The breakfast buffet was the perfect photo opportunity!

Continental breakfasts are amazing too, with croissants, brioche, preserves and yoghurt, fruit and cheese. Delicious! The cooked breakfast items were hidden under a silver tray. Boiled frankfurter sausages and crispy fried eggs. I decided to stick to the fruit.

Another interesting thing were the cakes on display! Cheesecake, cream-cakes, topped with cream and fruit, for breakfast! I officially loved Italy by this point.

You’ll be sad to hear that Lidl was closed (yes, we did go and see if we could have a browse, sad I know, since I live about 5 minutes walk from Lidl at home), but we decided not to let this dampen our spirits, and got packed up to go. The lady at the desk provided us with maps, and even got the hotel driver to take us to the station. (Note: Maybe this would have been a good idea for coming from the airport! Would have saved us money!)

Arriving at Stezzano Railway Station, Rab decided to flex his Italiano and ask a burly gentleman when ‘the next train, tr-a-in, to Milano, Meeelano’ was. He pointed to the other side as we saw the train approaching in the distance.

The wheels on the case were mangled, so que Rab hugging this massive case to his chest whilst belting down the steps. The Italian man then seemed to be chasing us, and I basically had a fit incase he was a mugger, but he was only running to tell the train conductor to wait for us and where we were going. Lovely, lovely Italian!

The trains are basic. Hot, hot, hot. Very old fashioned, almost movie-like.

Dalmaine Station

The conductor told us we had to get off at Dalmaine Station and wait there for a train to Milan. So that is what we did. The next train to Milan was over an hour away, so, feeling rather smug that we managed to get the train thus far, we decided to throw caution to the wind and get a train into Bergamo, then one from there to Milan.


Unfortunately, our smugness wore off when we got to Bergamo and the next train wasn’t for an hour. Silly us.

It was actually nice to sit in the shade and have a wee look at the different trains, graffiti laden and shabby, with two levels, an upper deck and a lower deck, separated with rather annoying swingy perspex doors. The trains have absolutely no ventilation but the windows, so prepare for a really hot and sweaty journey.

Milan was well in our sights as we got on the train for our 50 minute journey. One thing we did comment on was how we’d managed to travel for around 2 hours without being charged a single train fare, rather cheerfully of course because saving money is always a good thing!

The fantastic ceilings in Stazione Centrale

The journey from Bergamo to Milan was pretty uneventful; scenes of countryside with animals, lakes, absolutely loads of green space sprinkled with traditional painted houses, with mismatching shutter windows and balconies, almost every single one strewn with bed covers. This was something we saw loads as we travelled from place to place, so it must be a common thing to hang your sheets out every single morning to air them.

Siamo arrivati ​​alla fine! Milano!

We were so happy to arrive, and pretty overwhelmed by the beauty of Stazione di Milano Centrale, the central station of the city. Introduced in 1931, replacing the old station, this railway station has 24 platforms and a plethora of bars, restaurants, and even shops such as Armani and Zara! It was more like an airport.

We walked to our hotel, which was lovely. The Crowne Plaza Milan City is situated on Via Melchiorre Gioia, a mere 4 minute stroll from the station.

As you probably read from the first post about our holiday, I get quite intoxicated with the whole idea of a hotel room, and all the wee bits and bobs you get in there. So you can

Our Room in The Crowne Plaza

imagine my glee when I saw the mini bar and coffee making area, the ‘Welcome To The Crowne Plaza’ screen that was on our television, the dressing gown on the back of the door, and the ‘sleep kit’ resting on our pillows. Like a kid in a candy store.

The room had a running theme of, well, a woman’s face, which adorned the panel above the bed, the bin and the wardrobe. I didn’t care much for it if I’m honest, perhaps the design could have been better, but as a whole, the room was absolutely perfect.

We didn’t waste much time setting off to explore, and armed with my trusty walking and talking map/sat nav of a boyfriend, I wasn’t too worried that we were wandering around Milan with no idea where to go.

One of my favourite things about the city already was the eating and drinking culture. Italians love to eat, and aren’t shy about drinking alcohol all the time, with almost every meal. This is my sort of place. We grabbed a foccacia from a wee pasticceria down the road, and kept walking onto a beautiful park slap bang in the middle of such an urban metropolis.

Beautiful Statues in the Giardini

The Giardini Pubblici is a 40 acre park, the biggest in Milan. You forget completely that you’re in a city and are totally taken in by the greenery, dusty paths, lakes and water fountains.

People are jogging, walking around in high heels and suits on their lunch break, kids cycling around and walking dogs. We watched a homeless man, his life in a battered suitcase, wash his face and feet in the water fountain in the centre of the park and then lie down to sleep.

Oh, the foccacia. Amazing. The size of a small pathing slab, but bloody fantastic all the same.

Tomato and Olive Foccacia

So we wandered down to the Duomo through the busy streets of Corso Venezia, lined with Vivienne Westwood and Dolce and Gabbana stores, all of which I will be re-visiting when one of us wins the lottery/is recognised for our overwhelming talents and given a significant pay-rise.

Rab refused to take any pictures of the Duomo Cathedral at this point, because it ‘wasn’t the sightseeing day’. We were absolutely knackered as well, after a sleepless night and VERY warm day (I only packed leggings and maxis- the weather forecast for 5 days was rain, heavy rain, and loads of rain. Instead it was 28°C!) So we headed back to the hotel to get ready to go out for dinner, excited about exploring the area at night.

Our hotel had a lovely terraced area, so we bought a bottle of gorgeous Italian white wine from the bar (over £13 for half a bottle,

Beautiful, beautiful vino ❤

expensive stuff!) and sat out on the terrace to enjoy the early evening sunshine. I felt so utterly content at that moment, it was fantastic. Rab, as usual, had his head in a book about Rangers F.C. You can take the boy out of Glasgow…

Travelling down to Duomo was a little easier this time. The Sondrio Metro stop was right outside our hotel, absolutely ideal, and only 4 or 5 stops and 10 minutes away from the Piazza Duomo. A ticket for the metro is €1 per single trip. You can buy 10 journey cards too, but for some reason we never bothered.

The Duomo Square is pretty confusing. This huge, overwhelming structure towers over you as you stand in the square, the statue of Victor Emmanuel II’s grandeur at the other side and the Emmanuel Shopping Piazza to the side. Deciding which way to go was impossible.

We wandered down the side streets and came to a wee cafe-restaurant, Bellavista, where we decided that the

Bellavista Cafe, Milan

menu was suitable for our budget and we went in. The inside was just exactly as I had imagined an Italian cafe to be!

Mementos everywhere, dark woods, dusty wine bottles, little tables with checked cloths, hanging lights. Beautiful. We got some menus, and ordered some wine (of course!).

Antipasto of the Gods!

We went for the antipasto starter, which is an outstanding favourite of mine every time I visit an Italian restaurant here in the UK. The plate was huge, filled with lots of delicious meats.

Prosciutto and pancetta, as well as mozzarella, peppered cheese (amazing!), deep fried pizza bread and olives encased in mincemeat and breadcrumbs (new, but delicious!) made up the plate, which was definitely the nicest antipasto I have ever had!

Yum! 🙂

For main, I opted for orichette pasta, a pasta that I have rarely eaten and is rarely seen on UK Italian menus, with crumbled sausage, sugo and garlic. This sort of food is my idea of complete heaven.

Rab went for a huge pizza, with spiced chicken. Both looked awesome, and my pasta was brilliant. Washed down with more wine (When in Rome…or Milan…) we finished it off and couldn’t eat another bite, not even tiramisu, my fave.

Wandering around Piazza Duomo at night was beautiful. I did notice that there aren’t any bars or pubs, just

Trams at Night

restaurants and cafes. The drinking culture is far more subdued, far more normalised.

I didn’t see anyone stoating around drunk (not even Rab). It just isn’t their way which I totally appreciated. I loved that about the place. Drinking wine or beer is done with food, making drunkenness much rarer than it is in Scotland.

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

Lit up, Milan is stunning. A woman played a grand piano in the centre of the Emmanuel shopping mall, people gathered around watching her. Street sellers threw flashing helicopter toys into the sky and chased them around the square. The Duomo looked even more magical than it did earlier in the day.

Duomo Cathedral at Night

Our first full day in Milan was perfect. We slept like babies that night, and I couldn’t wait to get up and get started the next day. You could even set the alarm clock on the television, and you can only imagine how excited that made me!

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“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” 

Pablo Neruda

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Bellissimo! (Can You Tell Where I Went Yet?)

It’s been a while since I’ve visited this here blog, but recently I have been on a rather fabulous trip and I think it’s my duty to tell you all every single little detail about it, whether you care much for it or not.

I love a holiday, and these usually involve sunshine, beaches, cocktails, local vodka burning the lining of my throat and late night dancing. This holiday, however, was a little different. Visiting a city is a totally unique holiday experience, and the emphasis is all on the sights, history, local traditions and, for me anyway, food!

It was a totally new holiday experience for me, and one which I would love to repeat soon. I have a list compiled in my head about which Cities I’d like to invade next.

So sit back and relax, as a girl from Lanarkshire flies Ryanair to lovely Milano, Italy!

Duomo Cathedral, Milano.

Better Than Your Local Church of Scotland.

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It Was All Going Well Until….

..I indulged in a lethal cocktail.

Alcohol and high heels, that is.

Mix in some stairs, a spilt drink and some over enthusiastic walking and boom…this happens….


I managed to come home, eat some cold leftover Indian food, sleep for an hour then woke up in excruciating pain. Two very strong painkillers later and it was time to resign myself to the fact that I had to go to hospital. An hour or so later, no broken bones and this oh-so-sexy strap to support it!

It’s a public service announcement kids. Shots are bad.

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Clutch, gear, brake, mirror….

….I hate them all.

I have just arrived home, legs like jelly, from my fourth driving lesson.

To put you in the picture, I started my lessons when I was 17, excited, fresh faced and limber limbed, but was quickly brought down to earth when I almost killed myself and my instructor in a near miss double decker bus on a roundabout sort of incident. He turned out to be a complete fud, and I was so freaked out that I never, ever went back to my lessons.

Cue 6 whole years later, and I find myself sitting in the driving seat again, riddled with fear and insecurities.

I have a female instructor who doesn’t seem to punctuate with expletives (yet) and I feel a smidgen more confident perhaps because I am a bit more mature. Sort of.

I actually stalled for the first time today, which I was gutted about because I was having a sort of competition with myself to see how many lessons I could go without doing it. I was reading an article online which said the overall pass rate is 42%, which seems a bit low to me, and only makes me think that I have even less chance of driving anytime soon!

I will do it this time though! I won’t give up! I’ll be scooting about a la Hoke Colburn in my driving hat in no time!

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There she’s there….

…and indeed, here I am. Day after day, I keep saying that I WILL MAKE A BLOG, I WILL MAKE A BLOG….and I have never gotten round to it. Well, Jeremy Kyle is on three times a day people, that’s 3 whole hours of my day gone already.

A little bit about me is in order I suppose.

You might know me, or you might have just stumbled upon this blog whilst moseying around the net, looking for rude pictures of ladies boobies or news of Cheryl Cole’s latest outfit/exotic disease.

Either way, you aren’t going to learn too much about me from this blurb.

This is the part where I am supposed to tell you my name and age and how much I love butterflies and music and stuff, and how insanely ‘random’ I am and how insanely ‘random’ these blog posts are going to be ‘cos I’m so wacky and, well, RANDOM.

Let’s begin.

I am called Steph. Stephanie on Sundays. Thatsmethere.thereshesthere I decided to use that photo because I am semi decent and inoffensive in it. Take from that what you will.

I am 23 years old which in my opinion, is the right side of your 20’s, once you get to 25 then you’re almost 30 which means you have to be a proper adult and you should probably have your own house and that.

I live in Motherwell, which for those of you who live here too, is home.thereitsthere For those of you who don’t, its like a little mini third world country in Scotland where people with long nose hair and insane BO harass you at bus stops. Thereitsthere.

I have recently graduated with a shiny new honours degree (second class btw, had to get that in there) in Journalism and English from the University of Strathclyde, where I studied for 4 and a half years, because I decided to leave half way through my final year in 2008 because I was rubbish. I went back though, when the career as a lottery winner didn’t come to fruition.

And now here I am, putting my degree to full use by writing a blog, unpaid, and largely unread, probably. Unless I’m the new Lily Allen style internet sensation and everyone loves me and I become a cult icon with my face on mugs and mouse-mats.

Anyway, that’s about all you need to know about me for now. I have no idea what this blog will turn out to be about, probably something totally random and wacky though. So stay tuned for that.

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