Allow me to introduce myself.

A number of friends have recently encouraged me to start a blog. Whilst they claim that it is because I have interesting things to say that ought to be shared with a wider audience, I suspect that it actually has far more to do with the fact that they'd rather me rant somewhere they don't have to listen to my nonsense. Their wishes have been granted. I will be sharing with you my thoughts on those things that have amused me, caught my attention, offended me and perhaps even aroused me recently.


Perhaps you would like to know a little bit more about my fine self though before we continue. Please allow me to introduce and indulge myself.


I grew up in a hamlet in Yorkshire to parents who can count on one hand the number of times they've left the county (and that is not a typo, I really do mean county). In what could be likened to the Mighty Boosh episode detailing the exploits of the Crack Fox, I ran to London clutching copies of Vogue and i-D magazine full of ambitions to have a fabulous time at only the most exclusive and obscure parties. Problem. I'm actually far more inclined to spending time on my own and could scarcely afford the entry to clubs never mind the obligatory tube fair, ridiculous outfit and 'drinks' upon entry. As anyone who has ever socialised with me will realise, I'm rarely fun, or on the guest list. You can take the Head Girl out of the school but...


Anyway, I had rather serious aspirations of becoming an artist. Not serious enough though, despite the platforms of Central Saint Martins and Goldsmiths my ambitions lessoned as my dissatisfaction with the course grew. Queue a frantic application to Cambridge University, a year spent as a live-in au-pair to three children in South West London and a stint waitressing in a restaurant down St. James' Street London (you know, the one near the Ritz just off Bond Street) wherein I smashed a martini glass full of trifle all over the back of one of Shell's most senior members of staff. The bit that concerns me the most about all of these years is the fact that I worked somewhere that served such clientele trifle. Last time I checked it wasn't the epitome of avante garde fine cuisine. It's not even homely or comforting. No, not even in an ironic capacity.

Not amusing...

...Makes my eyes bleed.

Fortunately, I am now quite well settled at Cambridge, where I am ideally situated to resume doing what I have always really loved; reading, writing and making outlandish statements much to everybody else's disapproval. My additional interests include pessimism, buying things in charity shops for profiteering on ebay so as to reinvest in the finer things in life for myself, and great food, I fucking love food. Just not trifle.


Many thanks for your time. I assure you that my next post will consist of something far more topical and  less self-absorbed. I hope.