London Bound!

For the next few days this blog will be silent. Listen to the crickets and the night song; read a paperback novel, a trashy romance to pass the hours; watch that television you scoff at and compare yourself to what you see.

Because blogging is not on the agenda.

Me and my man are jetting off to London in search of Tourist Life. We are going to don our bum-bags, squint through bug sunglasses, and stuff our socked feet into sandals as we peruse a map, inconveniently placed in the middle of a busy tube station.

I joke.


(Our reliance on maps in the past has annoyed many a Parisian)

(Our reliance on maps in the past has annoyed many a Parisian)

This trip was a surprise birthday present from me to le man, because HE HAS NEVER BEEN TO LONDON. To all who live in England, this seems a little bit odd. Who doesn’t have a vague family member living there or flocked to watch a gig in the sticky early hours of the morning?

So I thought that he simply had to go, and we simply have to live up to the stereotype and do all those activities locals hate to witness tourists do.

I will be blogging all about it when I get back, of course, so keep your eyes peeled for some travel writing: ‘London Bound: The Adventures of Sam ‘n’ Ella!’ …or something equally cheesy along those lines.

But for now, live happily, fellow bloggers and readers. And enjoy the blessing of my (temporary) silence.


Summer Loves on a Saturday Night


You ever feel that tingly buzz in the air that means summer has arrived? Because I think it’s here.

The city is fragrant with summer tonight: the sun is shining, the sky is blue, my feet are covered in stripy tan lines from my sandals as I type this is the back garden. And I can hear the sound checks and laughter and music that announces the preparations for the University Summer Ball.

This is my first year here so this Ball is somewhat new to me. An unknown. With a hefty price tag on the ticket, I will not be going tonight, but I still feel it in the air. It’s like that feeling of summer. It IS that feeling of summer.

Ahhh! I feel excited! It’s like an addiction almost, this happy bubbly season. I want to whack on a pair of shorts and go barbecue some meat, sunglasses shading my eyes, a cold can of beer clutched in hand as I wave the prongs around.

Burger anyone?



Some of my best summer memories are evenings spent out in the garden. One of the family barbecues sizzling away as we sit chatting until the sun goes down, fat jacket potatoes puffing out heat from the oven, glasses sweating white wine. Giggling about boys and wistfully planning out future holidays. New York, Milan, Hawaii…

cocktailsIt’s pretty great having an all-girl family. I love my dad and my brother TO BITS, but it is nice to relax with your girls. We can swap clothes and nail varnish, and spend hours getting ready in front of mirrors with a bit of Britney Spears blaring as we dance around trying to zip up a dress. It’s the expected girly traits, it’s the cliche, and it’s fantastic.

This is how summer makes me feel, I suppose. Girly. No excuse for wearing big hoodies and hiding away in a bulky coat. It’s the time to paint yourself in beautiful colours and wear skirts that swish around your ankles; share cocktails in the sun and play music out of your open bedroom window.

People come together just to be together.

On this particular summer night, I am with my man, who is currently whipping me up some tea (isn’t he nice?) He’s no girl, I grant you, so perhaps the nail painting isn’t going to happen.

But, it’s summer, and we can feel it in the air.

And there’s nothing to stop us dancing to a bit of Britney in the setting sun with a bottle of wine.




…and I wish to sprinkle a little happy on the week before diving head first into the weekend.

Just for a moment, let go of the big things. Of the worries and stresses and schedules and expectations.

Humans are only tiny little beings, a dusty speck on the timeline of history – we can’t always shoulder the weight of the world.

So for a second, look for the good. Cherish the smile of a stranger on your way back from work or school; get excited about your favourite colour; dance to a song vibrant with memories; look for the brightness that makes you YOU, and cradle it. 

The way I see it, humans are incredible. Precisely BECAUSE it’s the little things that count the most.

‘I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.’
– Audrey Hepburn

audrey hepburn happy

To my Forever Boy

Today, I have been with the love of my life for a magical two years. I don’t want to write a stream of uncomfortably intimate memories, or gush at how in love I still am, but I do want to tell him one thing.

Thank you. You are the man who I want to grow old with. You are the man I want to kiss every single day for the rest of my life. You are the man who has turned my world around.

And it has been the most unforgettable adventure.


Teaching a terrified me the realities of boat life at Dartmouth.

Together in Paris

A spontaneous trip to Paris.

Our first Christmas

Our first drunken Christmas.

Educating trips to the Flight Museum

All our educating trips to the Flight Museum.

Driving in a getaway car to Weymouth

Driving in a getaway car to Weymouth


Another spontaneous trip because…Pefkos.

First year at University

Up and moving out for our first year at University.

Your continued attempts to grow a beard

Our second drunken Christmas and your continued attempts to grow a beard.

My continued attempts at seduction from a pile of wrapping paper

…coupled with my continued drunken attempts at seduction from a pile of wrapping paper.

Becoming superheroes for Easter

Deciding to become superheroes for Easter…someone’s gotta do it.

All of your super exciting Geology lessons. Every time we go out for a walk.

All of your super exciting Geology lessons. Every time we go out for a walk.

And then, perhaps most importantly of all, the adventure of loving you in the moments that carry us from photograph to photograph, my Forever Boy.



Yesterday, the inspiring Zach Sobiech passed away.

Here is his story.

His family has requested that anyone who is interested in helping change the fate for future children like Zach  donate to the research fund set up on his behalf.

“All I wanna be remembered as is the kid that went down fighting, and didn’t really lose.”

To Will & Grace, from My Womb

I’ve got to be quick as I’m sneakily writing this whilst my man goes out to buy some wine before we settle in for a movie night together. The second he shut that front door, I was here on wordpress, because I just HAD to say something.

I hate endings.

This evening I watched the finale of Will and Grace, after months of watching the entire collection. It was beautifully written, it was typical W&G comedy, it tied the loose strings, it brought smiles to my face…it broke my heart as the end credits rolled across the screen.

imagesThe conclusion of a stranger would be that dear god, she is that person: the one who gets overly attached to something to the point of obsession, when the steely glint of madness begins to shine in their eyes. And well, yes I suppose I am that person.

But I’m also the person who relishes a smile while it lasts. I revel in life and all it’s roller coaster moments. I can’t get enough of a thing that makes me happy, and I don’t think that’s a thing that could ever be criticised.

Sitting here, staring at a blank screen, knowing there is not another season of my W&G to keep me going in those dull twenty minutes over breakfast tomorrow, makes me glum. When a thing is that good, I hate to see that it can just be cut off, ended, that someone out there can simply decide that we’ve had enough of a good thing.

(Getting the subtle tone of over-attachment?)

No, but in all seriousness, it was an excellent show. It was the kind of show that stays with you. It leaves you with that lingering feeling that I wish to reproduce one day in my writing.

So now I shall leave you. With my overly attached, mildly obsessive, incredibly hormonal reflection on a tv show forever immortalised for my not-quite-as-oestrogen-filled-body to read over next week and regret.

And a clip from the Finale.

(Gotta go. The man is back with alcohol and a Russel Crowe movie.)