CANARY WHARF, LONDON
Every now and again I like to share stories here on the blog. I’ve told ya’ll about how I got fired from my first job, my most embarrassing moment, and my biggest “I told you so”. There definitely are a lot more stories under my belt, but one thing about blogging and being so public is that people I know do read this, people can piece things together, and occasionally you have to just keep it a little bit classy and not spill out every last detail… at least until wounds have had some time to heal. That said, this latest story involves only me and my friends, and is an example of how being “cheap” can sometimes get you into trouble.
NOTTING HILL, LONDON
I’m back in my family home for the weekend (in my lovely home town of London/Kent, nobody really knows…), and whenever I’m back here I feel like I’ve been transported back to Sixth Form. I remember being in Sixth Form and absolutely itching for freedom and adulthood – no tellings off, no curfews, no having to get permission to go wherever or do whatever – absolute freedom. I think it hit me when I was walking home that only c.4 years on, I’m exactly in the place I was itching to be. I’m a fully grown adult – I pay taxes, I rent, I don’t get an allowance from my parents and I’m in a three year relationship – when did this happen?! Memories of being out late and worried about getting told off, or being scared I wouldn’t get permission to go to a party, are so long gone that I don’t really remember what they feel like. I’ve… made it? Well, maybe not.