Ok I need to get two things out of the way in this post- firstly an apology to those who were waiting with baited breath, rang into work pretending to be sick and may have had panic attacks due to the tardiness of this latest blog post. But here we go…

Second of all, my phone’s been ringing off the hook about the highly confusing ‘yoghurt raisin’ reference in the last post. I may have dubbed them chocolate by accident, but they were, to officially confirm, ‘yoghurt raisins’. I use the term, ‘yoghurt’ lightly here as they did not do the dairy delicious creaminess of yoghurt justice- it was more in- fact a hardened, slightly stale, thick sugary coating. But anyway, I digress (which rarely happens in my succinct and jaunty blog posts), I’m glad I got these matters cleared up.

Actually, bugger to digressing- I digress further (I like this word digress (can’t tell))… the word sounds like dissecting and undressing and that now may have connotations of murder, woopsidaisie.)

So I write this with sore fingers I those who know me best will know that although Taylor Swift may have a point about being jolly at the age of 22, but I still bite my nails, and after an intense episode of Breaking Bad, my poor thumb looks like a bald man. Called Terry. I’m trying to counteract with this some Bjork- so far, so good. I mean really good. Y’all can keep your lady Gagas- Bjork really had it down. Very vibey. 

I rememberd Gina’s wonderful mumma, Margie brought us an electric blanket to our humble abode once upon a time, so now as I lay here in bed and bake my arse, I feel very cosy indeed, helped along by the pitter patter of rain on my window. Irish has bought me some lovely new curtains for my room, but I open them just before I go to bed. I like the noise and the dim glow of street lights outside. I won’t even try and claim, ‘the dim glow of street lights’- it’s a wonderful sentence that I think I’ve read in a thousand story books before, but even so, you get where i’m at right now. Warm butt, Bjork, and warm glows. I also feel very safe with the curtains open. If you look hard enough you can see Tottenham Court road from my window. It’s quite a reassuring feeling being at the centre of the capital of the country that I love so. I mean good thing too, you can’t bloody see any stars outside my window as the light pollution and smog ruins that. 

 My last blog post ended with me travelling to London to, ‘bring the new year in,’ as though a band of merry croth fans were waiting for me to announce the new year had started. Well, I got into Liverpool street, and I don’t mean to sound like a pretentious buffoon (I do really, I want you all to think my writing is an easy balance of profound and total crap) but the atmosphere in London really is electric on new years eve. I got the underground back to the Boogaloo, knowing there’d be a reddish glow coming from the building, faint chants of people warming up their souls on local ales and thin wafts of kebabs starting to snake along the street. Well turns out, the pub wasn’t opening until 8pm, so muggins here rocked up by herself, suitcase and armfuls of bags of presents, to a Highgate pissing it down with rain, gale force winds, and not a person in sight. Luckily, one of the lovely bar ladies just frantically turned up for work and we dashed inside. I also dashed back outside to buy a glass of wine, meal for 1 (don’t laugh) and a garlic bread. So do the math- I got wasted by myself, dressed up, and passed out about 11.50pm. So much for bringing the sodding new year in.

Since then not a whole lot has happened. Started back at work. Been working out each morning. Booked flights to see my family in Northern Ireland in February which will be fun/ interesting. My poor Dad, last time I went I got a triangle tattoo- I think he’s worried I’m joining the illuminati. 

Works going really well- although I’ve taken leave of my senses by which I mean I’ve forgotten i’m poor and have started eating at fancy organic joints in Soho. Damn it Jenn. Get back to your Tesco soup. No I shan’t I like gluten free bread on a bed of low GI rice and vegetable Thai Curry. NO YOU DON’T JENN YOU LIKE BACON SANDWICHES AND PRIMARK TIGHTS. Jeese, alright. 

Photo time (everyone’s favourite part of the blog). First one I found on my desk top by accident- I think I might have screen shotted it. I love it when people give their wifi addresses a ridiculous name. Good on ya. Second photo is a screen shot of my tabs when I got ready and drunk on new years eve by myself- it’s sad to say that I was having a really good dance and drink, see picture number three for full selfie. Picture four is of me going to work yesterday. I thought was outfit was great then got to work and thought, ‘I look weird and like I’ve literally thrown on the only clean clothes I own, when in actual fact I tried really hard. Note to self- stop trying to spice up your outfits.’ Pic number 5 is obviously of Gina and I. We decided to make her look like a man as a later afternoon activity, and looky here, she’s being abusive. Last up this is me currently, looking shiny yet happy due to the fact I’ve lost my regular moisturiser and have slapped on some body oil but it’s ok because tomorrow is a new day and I have no idea what to expect other than I will brush my teeth twice, shower once and see Gina. Unless Gina quits work, my toothbrush runs away on it’s little bristle legs and it rains… poo… meaning i’d need another shower and maybe therapy. 

It was nice to go back on a Thursday- and I would predict 99% of people at work that day said something to the effect of, ‘yeah it’s a nice way to ease yourself back into the working life’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU’VE BEEN AWAY FOR 1 WEEK MAXIMUM. Anyway, I was one of those people.

I caught up with my friend Jack at the weekend, we named a lot of pidgins and fed them mouldy bread. We went for pizza, then bought 5 boxes of fajitas and a scratch card then did some song writing. If he becomes famous before me, I hereby claim to be the inspiration for the song about yesterday’s gin. We drank a lot of gin.

Oh I got a kindle for christmas and I’m reading Game of Thrones. It’s amazing and I’ve a lot of time for Tyrion.

I keep meaning to meet up with Hazel and Lex for a coffee. They work near me and I’m very proud of them. 

I think plans for this week include going out for supper, writing A LOT more and finishing breaking bad once and for all.

Immediate plans definitely involve turning off the electric blanket. I think my feet are sweating slightly. On that note, let’s sight off on a little poem I just bliggled (bliggled is one of my new words- it means to write really fast that you don’t recognise your own writing when you look back at it, ‘it’s all bliggled’, ‘is this yours? it doesn’t look like my own writing, unless it’s bliggled.’).

We look and we listen

To one another

And it’s a given

That some of us are crazy

But I’d rather you

Joined in than try to save me

You see writing my blog

Steers my mind

Out of the grey fog.

 

 

Ok I need to get two things out of the way in this post- firstly an apology to those who were waiting with baited breath, rang into work pretending to be sick and may have had panic attacks due to the tardiness of this latest blog post. But here we go…

Second of all, my phone’s been ringing off the hook about the highly confusing ‘yoghurt raisin’ reference in the last post. I may have dubbed them chocolate by accident, but they were, to officially confirm, ‘yoghurt raisins’. I use the term, ‘yoghurt’ lightly here as they did not do the dairy delicious creaminess of yoghurt justice- it was more in- fact a hardened, slightly stale, thick sugary coating. But anyway, I digress (which rarely happens in my succinct and jaunty blog posts), I’m glad I got these matters cleared up.

Actually, bugger to digressing- I digress further (I like this word digress (can’t tell))… the word sounds like dissecting and undressing and that now may have connotations of murder, woopsidaisie.)

So I write this with sore fingers I those who know me best will know that although Taylor Swift may have a point about being jolly at the age of 22, but I still bite my nails, and after an intense episode of Breaking Bad, my poor thumb looks like a bald man. Called Terry. I’m trying to counteract with this some Bjork- so far, so good. I mean really good. Y’all can keep your lady Gagas- Bjork really had it down. Very vibey. 

I rememberd Gina’s wonderful mumma, Margie brought us an electric blanket to our humble abode once upon a time, so now as I lay here in bed and bake my arse, I feel very cosy indeed, helped along by the pitter patter of rain on my window. Irish has bought me some lovely new curtains for my room, but I open them just before I go to bed. I like the noise and the dim glow of street lights outside. I won’t even try and claim, ‘the dim glow of street lights’- it’s a wonderful sentence that I think I’ve read in a thousand story books before, but even so, you get where i’m at right now. Warm butt, Bjork, and warm glows. I also feel very safe with the curtains open. If you look hard enough you can see Tottenham Court road from my window. It’s quite a reassuring feeling being at the centre of the capital of the country that I love so. I mean good thing too, you can’t bloody see any stars outside my window as the light pollution and smog ruins that. 

 My last blog post ended with me travelling to London to, ‘bring the new year in,’ as though a band of merry croth fans were waiting for me to announce the new year had started. Well, I got into Liverpool street, and I don’t mean to sound like a pretentious buffoon (I do really, I want you all to think my writing is an easy balance of profound and total crap) but the atmosphere in London really is electric on new years eve. I got the underground back to the Boogaloo, knowing there’d be a reddish glow coming from the building, faint chants of people warming up their souls on local ales and thin wafts of kebabs starting to snake along the street. Well turns out, the pub wasn’t opening until 8pm, so muggins here rocked up by herself, suitcase and armfuls of bags of presents, to a Highgate pissing it down with rain, gale force winds, and not a person in sight. Luckily, one of the lovely bar ladies just frantically turned up for work and we dashed inside. I also dashed back outside to buy a glass of wine, meal for 1 (don’t laugh) and a garlic bread. So do the math- I got wasted by myself, dressed up, and passed out about 11.50pm. So much for bringing the sodding new year in.

Since then not a whole lot has happened. Started back at work. Been working out each morning. Booked flights to see my family in Northern Ireland in February which will be fun/ interesting. My poor Dad, last time I went I got a triangle tattoo- I think he’s worried I’m joining the illuminati. 

Works going really well- although I’ve taken leave of my senses by which I mean I’ve forgotten i’m poor and have started eating at fancy organic joints in Soho. Damn it Jenn. Get back to your Tesco soup. No I shan’t I like gluten free bread on a bed of low GI rice and vegetable Thai Curry. NO YOU DON’T JENN YOU LIKE BACON SANDWICHES AND PRIMARK TIGHTS. Jeese, alright. 

Photo time (everyone’s favourite part of the blog). First one I found on my desk top by accident- I think I might have screen shotted it. I love it when people give their wifi addresses a ridiculous name. Good on ya. Second photo is a screen shot of my tabs when I got ready and drunk on new years eve by myself- it’s sad to say that I was having a really good dance and drink, see picture number three for full selfie. Picture four is of me going to work yesterday. I thought was outfit was great then got to work and thought, ‘I look weird and like I’ve literally thrown on the only clean clothes I own, when in actual fact I tried really hard. Note to self- stop trying to spice up your outfits.’ Pic number 5 is obviously of Gina and I. We decided to make her look like a man as a later afternoon activity, and looky here, she’s being abusive. Last up this is me currently, looking shiny yet happy due to the fact I’ve lost my regular moisturiser and have slapped on some body oil but it’s ok because tomorrow is a new day and I have no idea what to expect other than I will brush my teeth twice, shower once and see Gina. Unless Gina quits work, my toothbrush runs away on it’s little bristle legs and it rains… poo… meaning i’d need another shower and maybe therapy. 

It was nice to go back on a Thursday- and I would predict 99% of people at work that day said something to the effect of, ‘yeah it’s a nice way to ease yourself back into the working life’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU’VE BEEN AWAY FOR 1 WEEK MAXIMUM. Anyway, I was one of those people.

I caught up with my friend Jack at the weekend, we named a lot of pidgins and fed them mouldy bread. We went for pizza, then bought 5 boxes of fajitas and a scratch card then did some song writing. If he becomes famous before me, I hereby claim to be the inspiration for the song about yesterday’s gin. We drank a lot of gin.

Oh I got a kindle for christmas and I’m reading Game of Thrones. It’s amazing and I’ve a lot of time for Tyrion.

I keep meaning to meet up with Hazel and Lex for a coffee. They work near me and I’m very proud of them. 

I think plans for this week include going out for supper, writing A LOT more and finishing breaking bad once and for all.

Immediate plans definitely involve turning off the electric blanket. I think my feet are sweating slightly. On that note, let’s sight off on a little poem I just bliggled (bliggled is one of my new words- it means to write really fast that you don’t recognise your own writing when you look back at it, ‘it’s all bliggled’, ‘is this yours? it doesn’t look like my own writing, unless it’s bliggled.’).

We look and we listen

To one another

And it’s a given

That some of us are crazy

But I’d rather you

Joined in than try to save me

You see writing my blog

Steers my mind

Out of the grey fog.