So, it’s pretty fair to say that last week was a bloody good week. It all started when I woke up at 8am on Friday to watch Princess Eugenie’s wedding. Yes, I did do that – and no, I don’t care. She may be one of the lesser-known royals, but she is still royal, and that’s a good enough excuse for me to get my royalist hat on and cry without shame at how beautiful she looked.
She wore a classic, elegant backless number that showed her scar from a spinal operation she had aged 12, simply because she’s not ashamed of it – she’s empowered by it.
This struck a chord for me, because I have a 6-inch scar on my stomach from an emergency operation I had aged 18.
Twenty bloody four. Sorry, but how is that even possible? It only feels like yesterday that I was chugging a bottle of Frosty Jack’s on a Grimsby field with Basshunter on repeat.
(This isn’t a recent thing. I was 15 – although I am a bit partial to Basshunter every now and then.)
I actually turned 24 at the end of July, but I’ve been so busy trotting across the globe that it hasn’t really sunk in until now. Being jet-lagged and drinking countless cocktails doesn’t really gel well, which is why I don’t have a very clear memory of this year’s birthday. That probably has something to do with it too.
But the reality would sink in eventually, just like it always does. The reality being that I am approaching my mid-twenties, which is just downright terrifying.
Here’s 24 things you learn by the age of 24.
Being a Journalism Studies student at the University of Sheffield, I had the amazing opportunity of undertaking a work placement at the Press Association for a week towards the end of June. The experience itself was a whole host of things, positive and negative; liberating, scary, eye-opening, and stressful. All at the same time.
I’ve been to London countless times for sunny weekend breaks, but I’ve never had the chance to stay for longer than two or three days. So I got to see a whole different side of London during the week I stayed there – away from the bustling tourist hotspots to a vibrant, deadline-laden office next to Victoria Station. Long story short, it was pretty interesting.
Here’s a few things I learned.
If you’re reading this from the sunny paradise that the UK has suddenly turned into, after what seems like 435 years of snow and bitter cold, you’ll probably be feeling those long-awaited summer vibes.
It’s not surprising that January is considered to be the most depressing month of the year. One too many mince pies at Christmas caused us to gain a few pounds, and our New Year’s resolutions are already long forgotten. Christmas is such a happy, joyful time surrounded by the 3 vital f’s: family, friends and food. So when that’s all over, is it any wonder that we’re left feeling a bit lost, not really knowing what to do with ourselves?