The End of a Chapter.


I have been confined to the kitchen floor to write this post. I have been in the process of thinking about writing this post for almost a week now. As I may have mentioned before, I have spent the last 12 months (well, 15 months after my contract was extended) working for a law firm. My degree included a sandwich year and I am now in the process of preparing for my final year. This last week has seen me leave the firm (following a few tears and tantrums) and move into my new flat in Nottingham.

This last year has been quite the experience. I did not enjoy my first 6 months on placement as much as I should have as I didn’t feel like I gained very much from it, but the second half was markedly better. I was moved into a part of the business that actually dealt with claims. My first few weeks in that team were spent helping the other handlers but I ended up with a full case load by the end of my placement. Throughout my placement I have met some of the funniest people I know. I have also met some of the most ridiculous people I know, but I won’t linger on that point for too long. The year has been quite the experience and I am eternally grateful I have had the opportunity. It is also nice to know there is every chance I will be able to just walk straight back into a job after university. It somewhat removes the stress of knowing what to do with my life in 10 months time.

My news of the moment is definitely moving into the new flat, though. I have been moved in since Saturday and am maybe half way unpacked now. All the important items like my laptop and games are all unpacked. All my miscellaneous items are shoved in corners to deal with tomorrow. And tomorrow never comes. I am slightly worried by how easily I have slipped back into the student life of doing nothing for all hours of the day. I have slept more in the last four days than I have over the last year. As with every other year, tensions have already started to mount. There are barely concealed insults, elbows appear, there is swearing and shouting… All in the name of Mario. I evidently don’t play well as part of a team when it comes to Mario and this has caused quite the problem when trying to play. Fern gets over it. We stop playing for a bit, maybe out of frustration, leave it for a day and then go back the next day as if we are going to work well together the next time. It doesn’t happen.

Aside from the Super Mario tensions, the week has run smoothly. We have had a few little niggles, but we have powered on through. Aside from the fact there are many MANY holes in the wall (like someone has run through with a hammer and just punched holes through for giggles), the fact things keep falling out of the walls and the fact someone may have murdered someone on one of the couches and covered it with a throw to disguise this, the flat is lovely. It is large. Everything feels large to me since my flat last year was the size of a shoebox.

Today has been quite the dramatic day considering we have only left the house to go shopping. Asda is down the hill from our flat. This is not a problem when going to the shop. The problems arise when trying to trek back up the hill. It got to the point we had taken three stops in about a hundred feet because things were so heavy. It even got to the point that a suggestion was made to steal a wheelie bin as shopping transportation. We nearly had Grand Theft Auto: The Wheelie Bin Edition. The redeeming feature of this was that the Asda does sell Pop Tarts and chocolate pretzels. Next time I will just buy them and not a whole shopping load of other things. The main purpose of this shop was to buy baking ingredients and today has seen our first baking drama. It isn’t quite the ‘bincident’ from Great British Bake Off, but I still had Fern banging on my door screeching “It’s a shortbread emergency!” (I am taking creative liberties with her phrasing, but in my mind that is 100% what she said.) This was then followed by caramel drama and a few burns caused by taste testing. Fern now realises just how much of a genius I am when I made her a divider for her caramel out of mugs and cardboard. She is going to keep me around. I have already proven my worth.

I had plenty more to say about the placement year and moving in, but after the Great Hill Trek of 1pm, I don’t have it in me to write anything else. I need a nap. I didn’t wake up until 11. I could get used to this. I don’t think I am ready for university yet. I don’t think I will ever be ready for university.

I will finish this off by providing a picture of the new house mascot. Meet the dragonborn minion. He lingers with all the belongings I have shoved onto the mantlepiece. Fern lets me keep things there because it all looks good. She likes the Skyrim map.

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13 days and counting.


I am not a big birthday person. I haven’t been since I stopped going to the circus for my birthday when I was about 9. (I used to quite like the circus and the fact it stopped at the park near my house on my birthday was always quite convenient). This year, I seem to be (unintentionally) milking it for all it is worth. I caused some slight offence by not going home for my actual birthday because I had plans, so I made up for this by going home the weekend before. Cue celebration number one complete with cake, a meal, banners, presents. Peachy.

I then returned (somewhat begrudgingly) back to a four day week at work last week. Since it was a bank holiday weekend last weekend, what did I come into at work last Friday? You guessed it, balloons, presents, banners and cake. Admittedly, I did supply the cake, since that is pretty much accepted to be the protocol with the vultures in my team. Half the team managed to devour near 50 cupcakes. It was quite something. Said cupcakes were all made in one evening. And you know, when you are on limited time, everybody knows you don’t just make a recipe you know, you go and find the most elaborate one that then expands in the oven about 3 times more than you thought it would and then results in weirdly shaped offcuts. Delicious delicious offcuts… Celebration number two.

And now to the birthday weekend. My original plans fell through (probably for the best). With Fern on painkillers strong enough to knock out a rhino and me suffering from a severe case of the empty bank, the Otley run was probably not ideal. The pirate fun times will have to wait for university and the infamous Ocean Wednesdays. With the Otley run aside, what did celebration number three entail? Cake, a meal, films, mild bullying. Saturday was fairly mild on the bullying at least. We only mercilessly used the phrase “Fern can’t do that because she has whiplash” about 1,000 times. I only stole Naomi’s phone and changed her relationship to “In an open relationship with Pie” once. She only retaliated and stole my shoes (well, shoe, because she failed) once. Fern then only threw one shoe at a stranger in a coffee shop. See, only mild.

Sunday was worse. Fern and Naomi decided ‘Lottie’ is a dogs name and then proceeded to call me as they would a beloved pet until they eventually left the box I call a flat. Sunday did have the benefit of the following: *Cue any remotely unappealing* “You can’t say / do that to Fern, she has whiplash. You can’t do / say that to me because it is my birthday.” Naomi was the unfortunate one with no go to phrase. That did not, however, stop them from their dog comments. The fact I slept on the floor to graciously give them the bed only added fuel to that fire.

I still have celebration number four to look forward to in Nottingham. There might be some mild celebration in the form of alcoholic consumption in Spain, but then again, that might just be us drinking for no reason. We’ll see.

As my signing off gift to you all, please find below a beautiful depiction of my helmet. It is for safety. Naomi likes it.