“oh, this is her, no regrets
i embrace your defects to confess you were my every wish
i admit that i will never feel, no i will never feel alone
i stumbled in monotone while the record spins around
please turn me over, slide me into sleeve
oh girl, please bring me home”

Mayday Buffet. i was funny in 2007.

“i had a dream last night, we drove out to see Las Vegas.”

zero time for the opinion that Die Hard isn’t a Christmas film.

thank you.

i’m starting writing this at 6.52 on a Saturday morning, unable to get back to sleep after waking from a dream where Claire was briefly a mermaid and that particular bit of information shocked me awake. i’m very definitely not under the effects of any painkillers right now, as my teeth, head, right arm and nose will all attest to.

it’s, frankly, been some of the weirdest few days of my life. i don’t remember that much of what happened and i’m already bored of telling people about it (although i know everyone is interested, so don’t be too afraid to ask), but the reaction of all my friends since has been overwhelming and more than a little humbling, to say the least.

all the exclamations of shock, the offers of help and all the concerns about my wellbeing have been genuinely incredible, but the thing that’s blown me away is the gift that seems to have come from an outpouring of generosity from everyone that could and wanted to give something. it utterly and completely means the world, and, even though i didn’t manage to cry on receiving it last night, rest assured that i’ve, ever so slightly, teared up this morning (although i’m definitely putting that down to banging my nose and arm in quick succession. shut up.).

anyway, i just wanted to say thank you once again. i’ll never forget this.

my first ever vegetarian lasagne is in the oven. here goes nothing.

i still miss Tumblarity :(

my top 10 albums of 2013. rock music.

this is my summation of my performance at #Tolworth tonight.

given that this is my last week at work, i am very definitely ‘just drilling holes’.

'fuck it'.

can someone fucking start a restaurant in London called Briskets & Biscuits, with the sole purpose of serving incredible brisket and proper biscuits and gravy? is that too much to ask?

it’s going to be a while before i’m sick of watching the Flanno goal.

i really want to meet the person that was all ‘i know, i’ll take minature sausages, and wrap them in bacon’. because that person is my hero.

just thinking about the time she took me to see wolves. such a keeper.