This be the blog

The same as every person who has ever written a blog post in their life, one of my New Year's to-do list thingys was to blog more. As I curled up in bed to write a pain fueled rant about the trials and tribulations of The Pill in the form of a Facebook status that no one bar my boyfriend, mum, sister, and close group of feminists friends would read*, I decided to make it into a blog post even less would read. Bastards. It's the worst advent calendar you could ask for. Or countdown. "How many days til your holiday?" "Well I've only got to snake back along my pill packet one more time." Statistically, The Pill, whichever you may be on, is a real shit show. If you don't find it so, you're a lucky git and I'm very envious. For the record here, I'm not talking about the usual The Pill, I'm on the POP (progesterone-only pill), but POP Pill makes me look like I'm writing a blog post reviewing some weird hormonal legal-but-not-ac

Left: your gal Libby. In the blue: Jezza C. Good evening. I'm starting writing this post in the afternoon but there's a lot of food in the house at the moment and I'm prone to distraction so it'll take me a while to finish this. I've not blogged since I got a job. That's because at the end of the work day I'm so sick of staring at my laptop screen that I can't bring myself to blog. But I'm not back at work til Jan 3rd so here we are. Yeah, so, 2016 was a bit out there wasn't it? On my to-do list for 2016 I included "do something that 2015 Libby wouldn't have done". I did way too many of those things, which is great, because it proves I've grown as a person, but is also terrible, because here are some of those things I've done: Tried coffee. Ended up crying on North Bridge in Edinburgh at 3.30am. Between the hours of 5 and 6am I went for a walk somewhere. I only know this thanks to FitBit. Spoke to a guru for ad

At the end of my two and a half weeks volunteering in Edinburgh, I had a free day. In typical Libby style, I decided to head to Glasgow for the day. Here's what I learnt. Wasps are fucking scary. Yeah, I already knew this. But as I sat down in a cocktail bar, on my own, to begin writing this list of things I'd learnt, a wasp took it upon itself to pester me. My usual reaction is just sit tight and wait for it to disappear, but it didn't. I was in a great position, with a plug socket for my dying phone and free WiFi, so I refused to move. However, on reflection, I did look like a massive twat sat on my own and freaking out whenever the wasp came near me. At one point it made me jump so badly I sneezed so loudly I think I actually cleared my week-old cold. I felt very Bridget Jones-y. Ask for friends' recommendations. I usually head to cities and just wander or use Trip Advisor to find nice places, but this time I asked a friend who was a local. He pointed me in th

In my continuing bid to abandon all aspects of real life and absorb and enhance my inner Jack Kerouac, last Wednesday evening I headed to Skegness for no reason at all. After coming back and checking Facebook I realised almost half of Derby had the same thought pattern at some point this week. I can't sleep in a Corsa. Alas, I do not mean "one" cannot sleep in a Corsa, because my traveling companion got a solid three hours sleep as well as napping half the journey home. I mean I can't, mainly because it's a stupid place to sleep. This is because it's a Corsa. The seats recline to almost horizontal, but the point remains. It's still a Corsa. And I will sleep anywhere, including standing up in a club. But I cannot sleep in a Corsa. Because it's a shit idea. Two pence arcade machines remain the greatest invention since sliced bread. Perhaps they even top sliced bread. We all know it's just the tiny dopamine rush that makes them so good - it's

I finished my first year at university nearly two months ago. I ran for the first train out of there and haven't had chance to craft a blog post in the time since. It's been an odd year, half living in Stoke and half living on a train bound out of Stoke. I don't want to write a tedious post on the ins and outs of the year, so I've crafted a few listicles. Everyone loves those, right? Please bear in mind when I say "uni", I mean the time between moving in and moving out. A lot didn't actually take place "at uni". In no particular order, my top 10 favourite moments of uni: Cartwheel in Edinburgh When in Edinburgh, the hotel was big enough for me to do a cartwheel in. It was very odd, especially as I was underground, but I was so far away from everything and spending the weekend on my own, and it was nice. Postman's Park in London For a few years, whenever I went to London I'd been trying to find Postman's Park. On my last

I like traveling. I don't like reading or writing travel blogs. From all my adventures I'm going to give you a list of things I've learnt on them. Maybe I'll add in a few witty anecdotes, about how I cried through the thunderstorm or someone wanted to steal a goat. Here's what I learnt after a night in a sleepy Welsh suburb and four nights camping on a farm. There's a Bret Easton Ellis line from his debut novel Less Than Zero: "People are afraid to merge". This is true. Driving on your own is the best way to listen to new music. Plug the aux cable in and put your phone where you can't reach it whilst driving. Get postcards from everywhere. I probably go overboard with this, but I don't care. At all. People look at you weird if you wear ripped jeans at a National Trust property. Remember they're the ones with the problem, not you. Being a girl on your own in ripped jeans paying for things in cash at a National Trust property makes