and may the odds be ever in your favour.

So I read The Hunger Games. If you have not, this post will probably not interest you in the slightest and you are free to go and play some scrabble or whatever it is that you normally do on a Wednesday night. I personally think Wednesdays are perfect for sitting around the house doing nothing which is exactly what I have opted to do all day. And all of yesterday. I regret nothing.

I started the books approximately three weeks ago and devoured them in one hungry gulp. One of the things I miss most about my childhood self is the way I used to stay up til the early hours reading. It was never anything fancy, most of the books I opted for were about animal rescue and had an alliterating title, but I must have got through hundreds of books, and there were never quite enough on my shelf. Nowadays, I have quite the opposite problem: shelves full of untouched books that I never find the time to read, and this is a source of constant sadness to me. As you get older, too, there is far more pressure to read things that are not shite. The problem with this is, I have to read lots of things for my degree that are distinctly un-shite and it can all get a bit heavy. I have waxed lyrical many times about the role of Harry Potter both in modern society and in my own life, and I am not ashamed to admit that the books I have enjoyed reading most in my life have been those written for children - His Dark Materials, Harry Potter and yes, The Hunger Games. 

These should not be mistaken with 'favourite' books, though there is some overlap but the thing is that they are just so utterly readable. They are enough to distract you from the irritating child on the train or the man staring at you from across a cafe. Nothing else matters when these books do, and this is exactly what I have missed - this childlike enthusiasm and need to know what happens next.

The Hunger Games, in my opinion, lack very little. The books are fast paced and very plot driven. There is gore, brutality, a love triangle, a gutsy heroine, bits that make you snigger in public and bits that make you shed an embarrassing little tear on the bus. The trilogy is just fairly brilliant and I urge you to read it immediately. If you are able to write off a couple of weeks, that is. 

The film is also rather good. But the books are better. The film does have a few advantages over the book. Okay, the film has one advantage over the book, and his name is Gale. I really don't get the Peeta-lovers of this world. Gale is sullen and brooding and passionate and everything a fictional crush should be. Peeta is just so nice - too nice! Plus Liam Hemsworth is Australian. Just saying. Anyway, I'll let you make up your own mind...

Cor. 

an american prisoner of war has been turned.

If you haven't yet watched Homeland, I urge you to do so immediately. I was hooked within about three minutes, and then proceeded to watch all twelve (hour long) episodes in the space of two days. It's that good. It did make me a little bit paranoid though. I keep dreaming that my friends are under cover terrorists and looking at ginger men suspiciously on the metro. I should probably stop that...


Claire Danes is good in everything, and I have sung her praises before, playing an angelic Juliet and a slightly psychotic secret agent are two very different things. This was a difficult role and it would have been easy to tire of the heroine, but she pulled it off with grace and ease. It would have been easy too to oversexualise the character, but she didn't - Carrie emerged a flawed, brilliant woman. She was clingy and confused and feminine - everything intelligent women are sometimes told they must not be. Overall though, she was just very likable. I stayed onside throughout, even when she was at her most ridiculous.

And what can I say about Damian Lewis? I remember seeing him in Stormbreaker when it came out (I would have been about fourteen). He played a Russian baddie, and I'm sure he was supposed to be scary, but really he just oozed sex appeal in his very ginger way (the best if you ask me). In this, he was a very different kind of almost-baddie - a marine who is discovered after eight years of being kidnapped and tortured in Iraq by an Al Qaeda cell. He comes back broken and changed to an unfaithful wife and kids he doesn't recognise.

The series is full of twists and gasps. The cast is solid (and mainly British). My favourite character was Saul-good-guy-Berenson who is brilliant from the start and only gets better as the series progresses. The story is very, very clever and told in a gripping, engaging way in which governments are corrupt and there are two sides to every story and two faces to every character. Now I'm just left wanting more, and searching for something similarly serious and dramatic to fill the void.

And I still really fancy Damian Lewis...

the future was our skin and now we don't dream anymore.

I have never really been one for blogging about music, other than to post a nice song at the bottom of the page that I think you might enjoy. There is one simple reason for this - I know nothing about it. I have no idea what makes the music I like good, what instruments are playing, the correct terminology for the different components or anything about keys and stuff. I don't want you to feel that I'm harping on when it's something I know so little about.

So I'm going to make a deal with you. The music stuff will remain a key part of what I write about, but you are not to expect anything more insightful from me than "ooh this is pretty" or "I like his face". Neither should you think that the songs I select will be particularly new or in any way cool. Okay? Okay.

Perfection exists in the form of a beautiful man from Sweden who is like a scrubbed up Bob Dylan with a voice just the right side of harsh and a super cool wife with odd hair. This song is gorgeous and I must have listened to it twenty times today.



Beach House's Teen Dream is an album I can listen to again and again without tiring of it. Take Care and Walk in the Park are my favourites, but the whole album is cracking. They have a new album out now which is just as lovely. For those of you in the clutches of exams at the moment, rather than being smug that I have none, I am going to be helpful and suggest that you let this band aid you in your revision. It worked for me last year!



I had a dream last night that I was on a boat with Conor Oberst. He renamed me 'Lua' and I remember being less than pleased. Nonetheless, it made me think about seeing Bright Eyes last summer and how much I have been obsessed with them (him) for such a considerable length of time. I think he deserves just one more sneaky appearance with this lovely live version of what is now my song (in my dreams at least).




I'd really like to go to some gigs this summer, so if you have any suggestions, or if you'd like somebody to keep you company, just drop me a little message. Failing that, there's always Greenbelt where lovely people like Gentry Morris come to play and I get to spend my days sauntering round a vegan café, picking up rubbish and making people tea. It's one of the highlights of my year.

ten men who know how to rock a suit.

The art of suit wearing is difficult to master. So many young men who wear suits look like they've borrowed their dad's Sunday best, and so many older men's best efforts are ruined by a sneaky bit of beer belly creeping over their nicely-fitted trousers. There are no hard and fast rules to making the smart look work, but sometimes timeless is best, and thinking outside the box should maybe only be left to the pros.

• Richard Ayoyade - Now this is a man who can pull off a bit of tweed. He is half Norwegian, half Nigerian, and one hundred percent comfortable in a suit, which is maybe not something you can learn, but should be appreciated nonetheless.

• Eddie Redmayne - He went to Eton where I hear they teach a special class on 'How Toffs Should Dress'. It definitely worked: the tweed, knitwear and pocket square make for a winning combination, and he has that public school boy hair down to a tee. 

• Douglas Booth - Of course, it is easier to do this whole suit-rocking thing if you are a Burberry model whose job it is to wear beautifully cut suits opposite Emma Watson, but I reckon the average Joe could learn a thing or two from him. I admit this post is rapidly turning into a pretty-boy appreciation post, but there's nothing wrong with that. Is there?

• Luke Evans - He played the simple yet hench farmhand in Tamara Drewe, and he has come a long way since. The hipster glasses don't hurt either...

• Tinie Tempah - phwoar.

• David Tennant - He wore a red velvet suit and it looked good. Velvet. Matt Smith may look alright in a suit, but he is no David in either the Doctor stakes or the fanciable stakes. Oh yes, I went there.

• Daniel Craig - He is James Bond. It's innate.

• David Beckham - A bit of an anomaly in this list, perhaps, but he's been showing the boys of our nation how it's done for years, and I think he deserves some recognition for that. 

• Don Draper - Fictional, yes. Poorly dressed, most certainly not! 

• Benedict Cumberbatch - Single-handedly making scarves less gay since 2010. 

• Andrew Garfield - I've loved him since he was in Doctor Who all those years ago, and now he's a fairly big name. Somewhere along the way, he learned to rock a suit. Good for him! 

• Thierry Henry - va-va-yesplease.

So there you have it. Pedants among you may have noticed that there are in fact twelve people in this list, but I didn't have the heart to relegate anybody, besides, I am an equal opportunities kind-a-gal. 

you should sit with me and we'll start again.

Once upon a time, I updated this blog every three days or so. Back then, I was in sixth form, living in Kidderminster full-time, and yet seemed to have an abundance of things to write about. Now, I am older and a bit more emotionally stable, this obviously results in less compulsive reading for me, let alone you lot. Nonetheless, I miss it, and I miss people arguing with every little thing I write, so I think the time has come to start up properly again.

At the moment I'm really enjoying being in Italy, even though it's rainy and full of men who tell you to smile as you're walking down the street minding your own business. This happens increasingly often, and I feel like apologising to them because my head is not always full of fluffy thoughts of puppies and lollipops. Sometimes I have thoughts. And sometimes I like to think about these thoughts, resulting in the smile momentarily disappearing from my face. I can't do two things at once.

Currently still off the Facebook bandwagon, I felt like I needed more of a social networking hit, so I've rejoined Twitter. For those of you interested, as of yesterday, I am now Mindbopping rather than just Mindbop. They wouldn't let me reprise my account after some scallywag hacked into it (there is a pattern emerging here) so I thought I'd start again. Simple. 

The thing is, I love the internet - probably far too much - but it simply doesn't love me. Too many unpleasant things have happened to me over the internet, and my interest is waning. The few sites now that are keeping me sweet are Skype (which has made this year bearable), Wordreference and Texts from Last Night (just because). Oh and The Guardian... and Tumblr... and now Twitter... forget it, I frigging love the internet, as cruel a mistress as it may be!

I have two months left here. I'd really rather not leave, but there are definitely things worth going home for, and I'm trying to arrange my summer so that I won't be too Romesick by the middle of August.

Here is some Bright Eyes, because if don't post anything by him for too long, the universe implodes.

And here is some Frightened Rabbit, to bring you back up.

we decided just to write after all.

I sometimes have a tendency to get too hung up in music my mother would call "durgey" and forget all about good music played on guitars and drums - the old fashioned way. And while I love clinky piano music and whingey ballads, there's nothing quite like listening to someone sing as loudly as they possibly can about girls and heartbreak and everything that makes music good. Maximo Park have talent and volume in oodles, and I think they are splendid.

Another thing about this band that may appeal to you is the singer Paul Smith, who is not to be confused with the fashion designer. This one does not make cologne, nor will he charge you seventy quid for a wallet. In fact, he may not sell you a wallet at all. The one I'm talking about looks sort of like a cross between a Victorian undertaker and a Tim Burton creation. He has a Geordie accent (the nice kind, not the Cheryl Cole kind) and jumps around a lot. That's the gist really.

Anyway, their first album A Certain Trigger was completely brilliant - all anger and angst and dancing around in your room on a Wednesday night in a hat of some sort. Next came Quicken the Heart, which was pretty much flawless. It was one of the few albums I had on my 1GB Sony MP3 player, back when I was fifteen, miserable and spotty, and had a paper round. I have a very clear memory (though some of those turn out to have been dreams) of a very rainy Thursday evening delivering the Kidderminster Shuttle for next to no money and listening to this record and it sort of making everything okay again. 

Their third album was pants. But we'll ignore that...

And now they have a new album coming out! Hurrah! I am more excited than I was about the return of Mad Men and I am even considering coming home to see them on their little mini tour in June. But maybe that would be excessive! 

To celebrate, here are my five favourite Maximo Park songs. I hope you enjoy them! And if it's raining where you are (it certainly is here), just think - at least you aren't fifteen. And if you are fifteen... erm... it'll get better? 

• Graffiti - "I'll do graffiti if you sing to me in French" - Deal!

• Books from Boxes 

• Apply Some Pressure - "What happens when you lose everything? You just start again. Start all over again."

• Nosebleed - "Did we go too far? Is that why your nose is bleeding?"

• Girls who play Guitar - "It's her life and a life is worth living."

still on my feet.

This cover of Joni Mitchell's A case of you is astonishingly lovely and according to iTunes, I've listened to it fifty eight times. Sounds about right. Up until now, though, I'd never seen the video, featuring Rebecca Hall whom I have loved ever since the first time I saw Starter for Ten. She almost ruined it with Vicky Christina Barcelona which is bad. Really really bad. But this is great, so she's back in my good books. And James Blake never left them.



Due to unforeseen circumstances, I have deleted my Facebook account. I think I'll stick with it for the time being because already today, I have read an awful lot, and this has to be better for the little grey cells. No doubt I will return soon enough, but for now I feel fairly liberated.

Today, I was walking to the supermarket (I use the term lightly. Think Netto mixed with an Esso Garage and you'll get the right idea) down the street from me. I was not immodestly dressed, I wore a long sleeved t-shirt, a knee length skirt and a leather jacket. A middle aged woman stared at my bare legs in disbelief, and without even trying to disguise her abhorrence, tutted at me and mumbled "disgraceful". I would have been surprised were it not for the fact that I seem to be living in a country where they cannot tell hot from cold. Today was beautifully sunny and hit 21°C at midday which is when I ventured out. This is the equivalent of British summertime, and dammit I'll get my legs out if I bloody want to. 

our good fortune allowed us to feel a sadness our parents didn't have time for.

In general, I'm not really a film person. As I get older, my attention span seems to be getting shorter and my ability to will myself to do... well anything is lessening day by day. And I know that watching a film isn't exactly hard work, you just sit there and it unfolds before you, but anything over ninety minutes and I get bored. And then I start doing something else. And the film never gets finished, and it hangs over me like a credit card bill. I find film-watching an overall depressing pastime. I watched Beginners the other day, and all it did was make me sad. I watched The Rebound today, and all it did was make me sad, but in a very different way.

But yes, I really do need a pastime. I've started running again in a bid to spend all summer on the beach, but that is more a grueling necessity than something I find enjoyable. Perhaps I should devote myself entirely to learning the Italian language - I do really love learning grammar - but it's just so hard, and I find it difficult when the man from whom I buy coffee sniggers at my pronunciation, let alone when people I actually like are listening to me butcher their language.

I've started reading a lot more, and strive to do this outdoors now that it's getting warmer and I'm beginning to discover all the open spaces Rome has to offer that seemed to hibernate over the winter. Currently, I'm trawling through the Stieg Larsson books. I say trawling, I am absolutely loving them, and I just can't stop turning the pages (pressing the "next page" button on my Kindle). I am yet to see either version of the film, but I'd like to finish the trilogy first so I can make up my own mind about how everyone looks and sounds. It's a nerd thing.

I suppose cooking could be my pastime, but I don't really have any money, so buying fancy ingredients is a bit of a struggle, and I invariably end up making pasta. It's one of the side effects of living in Italy.

Drinking, shopping and museum-going also all fall into the not enough money category. Basically I need ideas for things to do that are free and require little or no effort. Let me know!

I've included this video, not because I like the song but because I think she has a funny singing manner and feel you should appreciate this. She has a similar demeanour to a nodding dog.

put ya cape on, you a super hoe...

Happy International Women's Day!

One of the greatest annoyances in my life is that often when the topic of feminism comes up, people say to me "Feminism is all very well and good, but I hate it when "they" think they are superior to men". And I tend to nod along. Sometimes I venture that this isn't really the idea of feminism, but I tend to wilt under the glower that greets me. I am a feminist, but I am also hideously shy, and sometimes I don't stick up for my gender as I perhaps should.

For my eighth birthday, my mum took me to see S Club 7. They were possibly the worst "band" who ever existed, but I loved them as loyally as I now love Radiohead or The Cure. And they were so innocent. They sang about love and summer and lovely things, and they weren't remotely sexual. I was brought up on The Spice Girls who were much more sexcentric (Two Become One) but advocated girl power and taught girls to think for themselves (in their own little way).

About three years ago, I helped at Brownies for a bit. I only did this to get my Duke of Edinburgh award, and there was nothing altruistic in it at all. However, I did it. I was a Guide. It made sense. I don't really like children, but some of them were not that bad. I still remember my heart breaking however, when at the "Christmas Concert" (glorified karaoke session), a group of the girls decided to do a dance to "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls. It was horrific. They were about nine years old.

This was a few years ago. Things have changed a bit, possibly for the better, but now there are The Saturdays who whinge on all the time about unrequited love. Everyone wears so much make up. There are Bratz instead of Sylvanian Families, and Nicky Minaj says the word "hoe" an awful lot.

I really don't want to be too quick to condemn this new generation as doomed, and I'm sure that people thought the same about us when Blue (Dabadee) came out in 1998. I was seven. But the thing is, shitty Europop is inoffensive, and Nicole Sherzinger is anything but.

Happy Women's day everyone.

amser darogan y sgor.

This weekend has been a long one, and frankly, I am zonked.

My darling mother came to visit, which would have been nice, but she brought half of Lye with her. I'm not sure how many of you have been to Lye, but it does not churn out the best house guests. Luckily, they were all ushered away into a nearby hotel which meant I could come and go at my leisure rather than being stuck with them. I am stuck however with my rediscovered Black Country accent. I'm sure it will be diluted in time.

Yesterday, we went to watch the England vs Italy Six Nations match at the Stadio Olympico, which was a lot of fun, though Clare and I ended up freezing our faces off, even though I was wearing nine layers. And a hat. It was nice to watch rugby with someone who didn't take it too seriously, and we had a lot of fun trying (and failing) to rival the Italians in terms of volume. It was a lucky victory. The reason I am no good at being a sports fan (not that I try all that hard) is because I always feel too sorry for the losing team. So much so that I forget to celebrate when my team wins. I've also never quite got round to mastering hooliganism.

My mum brought me an England shirt to wear for the match. Though I felt a bit like I was betraying my beloved Wales, I wore it anyway, figuring that in a crowd where Brits were massively outnumbered, the men in white needed all the help they could get. Besides, I can support two teams, right? I'm still backing Wales to win, and that's what matters at the end of the day. Probably. My pick of the tournament (from my very scientific analysis) is the lovely Leigh Halfpenny who is just so Welsh and has quite nice twinkly eyes.

I quite like it when people come to stay, because it means I get to show off the city a bit, and fall back in love with it myself. I've been feeling really homesick, and it's been good to remind myself that I have a very cushy deal in life at the moment. I'm still really looking forward to popping home in just over a week though, and when I get back, spring will have sprung. This is what I keep telling myself, because I swear it is not supposed to be this snowy in the Mediterranean. They reckon seasonal variation is good for the soul, but I am sick of winter now, and ready for the sun to come back.

This is probably my favourite eighties song. And that is saying a lot. Good night everyone, I hope you have a nice week.

never really had a doubt.

I love Beyoncé. I have loved her since Destiny's Child released 'Survivor' and I decided I was a feminist. I also think she's probably the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And considering she's a supermegastar, she doesn't seem to be too much of a dick, unlike the Gagas and Minajes of this world (not that they don't have their place too). I know I can be a bit of a ponce about music, but I love pop just as much as I love all the obscure stuff, and Beyoncé will always have a place in my heart. Also, when the charts are still filled with bikini-clad girls, Beyoncé shows young women everywhere that confidence and power (and thighs) are infinitely sexier than stripping off.

So in celebration of her brilliance, here are my top ten Beyoncé songs, in no particular order.

• 1 - Crazy in Love. The ultimate power couple. What did we do before them? It must have been an empty existence.

• 2 - Listen - The best break-up song ever? Possibly. I loved this song, so I watched the film 'Dreamgirls', which seemed like exactly my cup of tea, but it was terrible. Really really terrible. Nonetheless, every broken-hearted girl will feel better if she stands in front of a mirror, miming this into a hairbrush. Cliché? Me? 

• 3 - Irreplaceable - "I can have another you in a minute, and in fact he'll be here in a minute." This one's for that other sort of breakup - the one where your friends admit that they never liked him anyway and you sort of always knew that he was a bit of a nonce. The solution? Parade around in your underwear and rollers to show the bastard what he's missing. 

• 4 - Halo - About the one that sticks. This was Eilish and Bob's first dance at their wedding, and I don't think there was a dry eye in the room. D'aww.

• 5 - Sweet dreams - Just. So. Good. And that dance she does at 2:20 would not be cool if anyone else in the world did it. But I dare you to try...

• 6 - Love on Top - Because with the release of this song, Beyoncé can pretend 'Telephone' never happened, and get back to doing what she does best - belting out fun songs and dancing in an un-mimicable sort of way. 

• 7 - Single Ladies - Like it or loathe it, it's impossible to ignore. In the words of Kanye West, it's the best music video of all time, and though we are all thoroughly sick of it, and groan when it comes on, it's pretty much iconic, and I couldn't bring myself to leave it out. It's another one that is a lot of fun to dance to alone in your room on a Tuesday night. Not that I ever do that.

• 8 - Beautiful Liar - This came out five whole years ago. I was fifteen and boys everywhere thought this video was the best thing since sliced bread. Beyoncé and Shakira on one screen, gyrating. A little bit obvious, yes, but they have hips so it doesn't incense me. I'm not saying it's not hypocritical. It's also pretty catchy...

• 9 - If I were a boy - I'm not sure anyone really understands what this song or the video are about, but I think she's basically saying that she would make a better man than her man. Maybe.

• 10 - Survivor - For old time's sake.

who's that girl?

It is a well known fact that every hipster girl would like to be a little bit more like Zooey Deschanel and every hipster guy would like to make her breakfast. Probably. She's just cool, isn't she? She managed to make the film 'Elf' cool, even though she was blonde and very un-Summer, and she can pull off those glasses better than anyone...

Because I spend most of my time at my computer (comforted by the fact that I am still technically in Rome and could do loads of super-cool things if I wanted to), I have of course watched all of 'New Girl' about three times. I quite like it. It's funny though how it manages to irritate, bore and enchant me all at once. 'Jess' is a little bit ditsy and a little bit too kitsch, but while I'm not sure she's all that credible as a High School teacher, she's difficult to hate. Put aside for one moment the fact that nothing really happens, and consider instead just how stylish she is. Just look at her, look! Besides, perhaps t.v. doesn't have enough superficial, plotless programmes and is in need of a few more. Oh, wait... Also, when I came to my bi-monthly viewing of '500 Days of Summer', I was shocked at how much of a cow she was in comparison. I hope my enjoyment hasn't permanently been dented.

It's very snowy here and I have heard enough sirens in the last three days to last me a lifetime. It's odd, there's nobody around at all. Everyone is hibernating. The shops are closed, the shelves long-cleared of anything fresh or worth eating. Yesterday, we went to the Colosseum which was buzzing with Italians, with only a smattering of tourists. It was lovely to see people making the effort to go and see their city at its prettiest. It was a bad time however, to realise that I don't have any sensible shoes. Not a single pair. And by 'sensible', I mean not from New Look.

I hope Italy is a bit more mobile tomorrow (though there is another transport strike, so my hopes are not high) and most importantly that there is a supermarket within 5km which has managed to restock so I don't get stuck eating old bread and get scurvy. Again, I'm not hopeful.

 I can't wait for Spring.

don't fear the reaper.

This is a murder-themed blog post. I thought I'd tell you upfront in case you think I'm an oddball and want to leave it at that. I didn't want you to get half way through and realise that there was a recurring theme running through it, and that the theme in question was just a little bit strange. It also contains 'Sherlock' spoilers. Don't say I didn't warn you.

They have Midsomer Murders here in Italy. It's called 'L'ispettore Barnaby' and is dubbed rather than subtitled. This may seem irrelevant, but it actually makes a lot of difference to some programmes. For example, Grey's Anatomy dubbed into Italian is just as enjoyable, whereas MTV's 'Disaster Date' when dubbed has all the fun sucked out of it. Inspector Barnaby's adventures seem to gain something in the Italian language, and everything seems a little bit more dramatic. I would imagine those living in big Italian cities however, find it somewhat difficult to relate to the lives of those living in quaint British countryside.

Sherlock was incredible. The last series was definitely good television, but this was just exceptional. I started watching it at home with Tom, Cait and Cindy, and finished it sitting alone in my bedroom in Rome, but both times, I was equally hooked. Anybody who doesn't find both Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch supremely attractive is maybe a little bit deranged (or likes men who are slightly less angular of face). And now the internet is buzzing with theories of how the great man faked his own death. I have to say, I was a little bit angry that he wasn't dead. I feel the BBC cheated some tears out of me (who wouldn't well up a little at the sight of a very forlorn John Watson unashamedly grieving the death of his best friend) and felt silly for getting so worked up! My anger is not enough to prevent me from really really looking forward to the next series though. I'm sure I will be just as enthralled.

This interesting collection of pictures appeared on the Guardian website the other day. I scrolled through with morbid fascination. I hope you will do the same.

The thing is, I love detective programmes, Agatha Christie novels and that Roald Dahl story where the old lady ran a B&B and stuffed all the guests. I guess what I'm asking is your opinion on whether this is really weird, or if I might indeed turn out normal rather than some vengeful, leg of lamb-wielding housewife. Comment is welcome.

I'll leave you with a pointless gif of Benedict Cumberbatch taking his scarf off. You are welcome!

back on track.

I spent last term in a haze of missing home too much, not drinking enough, not working enough, not speaking enough Italian, not blogging enough (or at all), not reading enough. There is a big ol' list of 'not enoughs', but this term, everything is going to change. Today, I am going for a run, applying for jobs and drinking lots of coffee. This wave of productivity/caffeine has got me feeling really good. I have six months left in Rome. Better make them count!

So it's been a while! Last time I wrote on here, we were in the midst of riots and a warmer climate. Since then, not all that much has changed. Except for the riots and the climate. My mother got "engaged", and while my prospective stepfather leaves a lot to be desired, in theory, I am happy for them and I wish them well (seriously though, who gets engaged at the ripe old age of fifty six!?). Along with half of the population, I bit the bullet and got a Kindle. I was on the fence, but I'm really glad I did because I am reading so much more already. I went to Tom's for Christmas, which was absolutely lovely, though it did mean that due to the legendary Moore hospitality, I ate far too much. This would have been fine, except a couple of days later, my lovely friends Eilish and Bob got married, and I had to not look enormous in my purple bridesmaid's dress! I'm not sure I managed. Eilish on the other hand looked absolutely stunning, and I've never seen two people with bigger grins on their faces.

That's about it really! I came back to Rome about a week ago, and I'm rather enjoying myself. It's sunny and cold, and oh-so Italian. Everyone wears these massive puffer jackets; belted, quilted monstrosities which turn even the most glamorous of women into the Michelin Man, all tutting as they see us silly Brits strutting round in light jackets. The older women waddle around under the weight of their huge fur coats, and the men blow-dry their hair, all for fear of getting a cold.

They might just have the last laugh though, as I'm feeling a little bit sniffly...

So there you have it, a cheeky little update for those of you still interested. A few people asked me to resume writing on here, but I told them I thought maybe the time had passed. I guess I was wrong!



This was in Sherlock last night. Can they do no wrong? Also, Benedict Cumberbatch - phwoar.