Sunday 27 January 2013

A Spoonful Of Sugar

As a creature of habit (something I'm fairly sure I get from my Grandad), I've thrown even myself by deciding to do a second blog post this month. But following an unexpected experience with my New Year's resolution this year I felt compelled to write.

Now I know that, given my imminent move to Florida, my resolution should probably have been along the lines of 'get abs of steel ready for the beach' or 'stop spending money on  ridiculous, unnecessary things', but something that happened at the end of 2007 stopped that.

On 31st December 2007 I was at a party when Don't Stop The Music by Rihanna came on. At this point I had danced Latin and Ballroom between the ages of seven and sixteen, but had stopped when it started affecting my wild social life and vowed to go back when I passed my driving test.

Those of you who know me well will know that I didn't pass my driving test until the day I moved to Coventry and so never did go back to my dance classes.

When that song came on at the very end of 2007 Daisy Duck- another dancer- grabbed my hand and launched into a cha cha cha with me.

I loved every second and remembered how much I loved dancing- and was hugely encouraged by my Essex Knight who insisted that I should start it up again.

That, therefore, became my resolution for 2008.

That decision was far more significant than I ever could have realised.

It took a lot of research but after a series of googling, phone calls, texts and emails I was informed that as a Coventry student I was entitled to dance for The University Of Warwick- and that I should contact their team captain for details.

I did, and it changed the entire course of my university experience. It took over my world- it became far more important to me than my degree, introduced me to some of the most amazing people I have ever met and is one of the things that I am proudest of about my four years in the Midlands.

That resolution not only changed things for me in itself, but it also inspired me to make an original, exciting and realistic resolution every year.

So since then I have started a diary (which is now in its fifth year), got a graduate job, worked in five different countries and learnt to juggle.

This year my resolution came to me in December.

I was struggling up the huge hill that I lived on with Boo's family, breathless with the effort of pushing the buggy and managing to say 'yes you're right that is a car' to my excited two year old charge, when a man walked past me- a total stranger in his seventies at least. As he passed he smiled and said 'I hope you don't mind me saying but you are beautiful. Pretty as a painting.'

What a lovely thing to do. That passing comment made me smile for the rest of the day, and I found I suddenly had plenty of energy for the trek up the hill.

As I continued toward the Under Threes Club I started thinking. I probably think positive things about people around fifty times a day.

I spend so much of my time thinking how beautiful people are, how nice their clothes are or how thoughtful they are. Yet I very rarely say them out loud.

I've had endless conversations with Pumbaa about how stunningly beautiful Minnie Mouse is- how many times have I actually told her? Aside from when she was trying on wedding dresses, very rarely actually.

Cowgirl Jessie is officially the nicest, most thoughtful, empathetic and kind person I have ever met. The Irish Prince knows that because we frequently discuss the fact. Have I ever discussed it with Jessie herself? Of course not.

Pumbaa is the most down to earth, funny-but-totally-unaware-of-it and loyal friend I have ever been lucky enough to have. My mum often comments on this. To me. Not to Pumbaa.

I'm sure I'm not alone here: you do it too, don't you?

So I decided that this year my resolution would be to start saying the nice things that I think aloud.

Then on 3rd January I bought my favourite magazine and discovered that the message in the editor's letter was 'Spread The Joy'. She asked her readers to join her in an experiment and attempt to shift the national mood from misery to happiness. She then quoted some celebrities on their amazing ideas of how to brighten someone's day.

Following that Buzz Lightyear- one of the most glamorous people I have ever met (and she lived in a tent when I knew her)- posted two life-affirming, world-cheering ideas from different articles that she had read on my Facebook wall.

I felt like the world was coming at me from all directions telling me: make the world a happier place Rebecca. 

This, combined with the fact that I am moving to Disney World this year (in 16 sleeps)- where it will be my job to make every day magical- led me to change my resolution and participate in the kind of social experiment that Glamour's Editor suggested.

Now I don't want you to think that because I actively decided to start being nicer to people it cannot be sincere. I like to think that I am quite a nice person anyway: I had made the resolution to start saying nice things out loud before I even bought Glamour, and know that Buzz only sent me those articles because she knew they were both things that I would be likely to do. I would only ever give compliments that I genuinely mean (I wasn't complimentary about every wedding dress that Minnie Mouse tried on- trust me) and I already love making people smile- if I didn't I wouldn't be going to work in Disney.

I didn't set out to complete a certain number of nice things per day or per week, nor did I plan when and where I would do each thing- I just tried to be more aware of opportunities to make people smile, and instead of being scared or embarrassed to do them- grabbed the chances and ran with them.

I often found myself stopping and thinking: is this weird?

Then imagined somebody doing the same thing for me, and found every time that I wouldn't find it weird at all, it would just make me smile. 

In hindsight I have divided them into three general categories in order to be able to explain them clearly....

1. Saying Things Aloud

As I've already mentioned this all started with my vow to say the nice things that I so often think aloud. I realised by doing this that I do tell people how beautiful they look on a night out, but rarely say any of the other positive things I think....

a) I know that this probably doesn't count as out loud but I noticed that I leave each of the clubs that I take Boo to every week thinking about the wonderful job that the staff do. If I feel a bit stupid at Rhyme Time sometimes- how must the lady who has to face a room full of the scariest type of human- mothers- and lead them in If You're Happy And You Know It feel?

I always made the effort to go and say that we enjoyed it at the end but even I couldn't find the words to say 'You're amazing at your job' out loud without crossing into uncomfortably cheesy territory.

So instead I made them each a card and wrote in it that I thought they did a wonderful job and hoped they knew how much they were appreciated. I then left them on counters in the various groups to be found after we had left.

b) I saw a lady in town one day wearing a beautiful red jumper and the second I saw it my mind shouted 'Wow. She looks gorgeous.' So, remembering my vow, instead of thinking it and walking away, I told her. She reacted in the very British way of 'Oh this? It's nothing! Just threw it on before I took the kids to school', but then went on to have a full conversation with me about each of her children and walked away with a huge grin.

I was once told- a few years ago now- that sometimes I can look very judgemental and, to be frank, a bit of a bitch- because I tend to look people up and down when I see them for the first time. I was absolutely horrified and certain that it wasn't true, so I started watching out for it. I soon realised that I do do that, but actually what was going through my head was 'I wish I had skin like that' or 'I love her shoes'. I imagine that if I had walked away without explaining to that lady that I loved her jumper she probably would have thought the same of me.

Perhaps telling everyone my thoughts is my solution.


2.  Random Acts Of Kindness

I have learnt this month that there are opportunities for random actions that make people smile all the time. And just going for it results in both you and the recipient smiling for the rest of the day. I have done quite a few of these, but thought I'd share with you my favourites....

a) This first one I actually did before Christmas and before I had even made my Say Nice Things Aloud resolution, but I want to mention it because the reaction was brilliant.

As I drove toward the toll booth on my drive between Essex and Surrey, what I thought was a lovely idea washed over me. I had my rush of doubts: is that acceptable? Then thought of the smile it would bring me were it the other way round and decided to just go for it. I pulled up to the booth and wound down my window, then passed my two pound coins (yes two pounds- daylight robbery) and a large chocolate coin over to the man working there.

He looked at the three coins and frowned. Then I watched as realisation spread across his face and his mouth broke into a huge smile- think Julia Roberts in the Press Conference scene in Notting Hill- and the normally miserable, bored-looking toll man gushed- yes, gushed- 'thank you so so so much! Merry Christmas.'

That reaction filled my tummy with a warm fuzzy feeling that lasted all the way back to Surrey.

b) The next one was suggested in Glamour Magazine by James Corden. I was in the queue for a coffee in Costa when a lady joined the end and stood behind me. Just as I was about to order I asked her what she was having and proceeded to order and pay for her coffee as well.

Her reaction was equally spirit-lifting. She was nothing short of delighted. 

She started by rejecting my offer, but I firmly told her that I really wanted to do it and she gracefully accepted and skipped over to tell her husband with a wide smile and a new spring in her step. James suggested that if they object you should suggest that they buy for the person behind them, and see how far back you can get it to go. I was unable to do this because I had chosen (perhaps foolishly?) to do it in a quiet store on a Sunday morning- but even what I did was massively gratifying and kept us both- I'm sure- smiling all day.

c) This one also involves food but I promise it's the last one that does.

I was in Boots one Thursday afternoon when a lady stormed in and demanded that her prescription be organised quickly because her bus was on its way. The staff member calmly and politely informed her that unfortunately prescriptions take at least twenty minutes, so she would either have to wait or come back another day.

This suggestion was greeted with all sorts of obscenities that I won't repeat, and the argument went on for at least the ten minutes that I was in there: the staff member remaining patient and polite whilst all kinds of abuse was being thrown at her.

I checked the time and, knowing that The Scary Lady (as she soon became known to me and Boo) would be in there for at least twenty minutes, went to another shop and did various jobs before returning half an hour later.

 I got into the prescription queue and when Mandy- the patient staff member- called me over, I explained that I had seen what had happened and that I didn't want her to leave work today disheartened with the public and hating her job, so I had bought her a creme egg to remind her how good she was and that some of us are quite nice. I didn't say it in a dramatic, cheesy, American way; but in a laughing, friendly, quite British way.

She was so taken aback- more so than I had expected- and so grateful that I was pleased that I had gone to the trouble and not brushed it off as a weird thing to do (which is, I'm sure, what I would have done before Christmas).

One of the main things that I have learnt this month is the wonders of a Creme Egg. I've bought them for a few people just to cheer them up, make them smile and brighten their day and they are magical in their power to lift spirits.

d) This is a very small example but I wanted to give an example of a time that I made someone smile without spending any money. I was in the queue in Tesco when the lady in front of me started counting out her pennies in an effort to pay using cash rather than card. After what felt like a lifetime she realised that she was three pennies short. The cashier rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders and mumbled something along the lines of 'card it is then.' If I had had the three pennies to give her I would have done, but unfortunately I only had my card as well. I imagined myself in that situation though- not too hard, I've been there far too many times for my liking- and went over and said 'Ooh that just happened to me in the last shop, it's nice to see it happen to somebody else- it reminds me that I'm only human.' At that she smiled and replied 'Thank you so much. I was so embarrassed but I suppose it happens to everyone.'

3. Letter To A Stranger

This is one of the suggestions that Buzz Lightyear posted to my wall and I immediately loved it.

The idea is that you write a letter to a stranger- not about your problems or worries, but about positive things. There are no rules really- except that it is supposed to make the reader smile.

You then leave the letter somewhere to be found- on a train, in a cafe- wherever you see fit.

I read some of the comments on the article and found that several people thought that there is nothing special about a letter to a stranger because it's random- if it's random how can it possibly mean anything?

I understood why they would think that but hugely disagreed. I think there would be something magical about finding a letter left for someone to find- even if it wasn't specifically targeted at me. The lady that I bought a coffee for knows that I didn't choose to buy it for her because it was her, just as the toll man knows that I would still have handed over the chocolate coin if it hadn't been him working that day- but it doesn't make it any less spirit-lifting.

So I set about writing the letter- the contents of which will never be known but which I kept short, sweet and genuine- and left it at a bus stop. Walking past the bus stop the next day and seeing that it had disappeared felt exciting and magical and filled me with curiosity.

It could have been a grumpy fourteen year old boy who found it, screwed it up and put it in the bin, or it could have been a thirty year old woman who needed it to make her smile after a stressful day.

I will never know.

Which is half the downside, and half the fun.

4.  The Empty Jar

I was recently speaking to Happy, and he shared with me a theory about how to monitor whether your life is good enough. He said that he often asks his friends: on a scale of one to ten- how happy are you with your life?

If it's below seven, it is absolutely not good enough and you need to do something about it. If it's above seven- amazing, but keep tweaking it to keep it there and maybe push it even higher.

Think about this yourself- where are you?

My suggestion is that- wherever you are on the happy scale- this second idea from Buzz- The Empty Jar- is a brilliant way to push your happiness a bit higher and bring your attention to the small joys in life.

This involves keeping an empty jar in your bedroom. Every time something good happens to you- however small- you should write it down on a piece of paper and put it in your jar. Then whenever you feel down about life- which even Happy does sometimes, I'm sure, read some of the positives in the jar and remember how good life can sometimes be.

Mine isn't filled with amazing, life-changing things, but with tiny, momentary things that can easily be forgotten. The time that the man who started this whole thing told me randomly that I was pretty as a painting, the time that the lady in the newsagents gave me the paper for free (because I had bought so many creme eggs that day in my attempt to spread happiness), and the day that the Irish Prince randomly sent me a package containing all the things I missed most about Ireland (apart from himself obviously...).

When you've been doing it for a year- take it out and read them all back. It makes for some interesting and smile-provoking reading.


I have learned a lot from my month of spreading joy. I've learnt that there's a hugely underrated kick to be had from doing little things to make others smile, that making others happy is inextricably linked to being happy yourself, and that if snow drops were Creme Eggs- the world would be a far happier place right now.

So as I go off to Florida where it will be my full time job to make people smile, to make every day magical and to generally Spread The Joy, I like to think that the happiness will continue to spread right here in the UK- starting with you :)


Thursday 17 January 2013

Goodbye May Seem Forever...

So as my Date With Disney moves ever closer (26 sleeps for those of you not counting), I find myself filling every spare hour, lunchtime and evening with emotional Last Visits to those that I am going to miss most during my year away.

What I have found is that I can go (and have gone) for years without seeing certain people. I think about them every now and again, email them, text them, even write letters in certain cases, but never panic about when I'm going to see them again.

Then I sign a contract to go and live in America for a year and suddenly I need to see everyone I've ever met before I go.

There's something about knowing that it'll be at least a year before you see someone again that makes it so much harder to handle.

When I was at college with my best friends Minnie, Jessie and Pumbaa, I'm fairly sure that it never crossed my mind to miss them between four pm on a Tuesday and nine am on a Wednesday. Yet when we had our Big Goodbye before Pumbaa and I left for university the pain of missing them hit me approximately thirty seconds after I walked out.

Pumbaa went to work in France for six weeks once. I cried for four of them. At the end of last year we were living fifteen minutes away from one another and went six weeks without seeing each other without even noticing.

It's often said that true friends are those that can go long periods of time without speaking then see each other again and find that nothing has changed; it's like no time has passed at all.

I actually find that with most people.

I recently bumped into my form tutor from secondary school (for those of you who have never experienced this as an adult- seeing a teacher outside of school never stops being funny. Did you know they also have first names?)

Despite the fact that I am now twenty-three years old- have a job, a driving licence, a degree and a whole horde of friends who are also now teachers- the second that he was in front of me I managed to melt into the giggling, slightly geeky (yes I said slightly) falsely-confident fifteen year old girl that I thought I had escaped.

So I'm not sure that the 'Ooh we're such good friends, it's like nothing's changed!' argument stands up really.

What I have found is that your true, most wonderfully brilliant friends are the ones that you can go years without seeing but will still be laughing with as soon as you clap eyes on one another again.

This weekend I returned to Coventry to 'say goodbye' to a few friends that I hadn't seen for at least sixteen months.

At my first stop I saw Mrs Potts and Naala. I hadn't seen either of them since April 2011. Within minutes we had settled back into the same roles that we played at university. Mrs Potts hosted us in her beautiful house, and busied herself getting us drinks, sitting us in the comfiest chairs, being nothing but complimentary about everyone we mentioned and catching us up on her successful career and married life. At one point she mentioned something terrible that Maleficent had done but just frowned and muttered something along the lines of 'well I did think that was a little bit unfair really', before returning to her smiley, positive self.

Naala, on the other hand, told us exactly what she thought of Maleficent and what she had done (I'll not repeat her exact words on here), immediately making me laugh out loud and- to use the cliche- feel that no time had passed at all.

In fact, while I was there I had to continually remind myself that time has passed, that things have changed. Mrs Potts is married. She owns a house and a dog and has the very grown-up job of being a Primary School Teacher (hence the lack of first name). Naala and Simba moved to Australia for a year. Now they're back working in grown-up offices saving for their next travel adventure.

Which is perhaps why none of us had to dash off for lectures at any point. None of us were hungover. We didn't have text books on our laps as we chatted. Nobody launched into a rant about a tutor. Nobody burst into tears and started wailing about their dissertation. We weren't even wrapped in blankets and clutching hot water bottles because- wait for it- Mrs Potts had the heating on.

So having discussed Mrs Potts' wedding, job,dog and house; covered Naala and Simba's year in Australia, jobs, and future plans, mentioned the words Disney and excited approximately five thousand times and drunk my weight in glasses of water, I was back on the road again for my lunch date with Jasmine, Dory and Rajah.

Having been in my car for approximately one and a half minutes I realised I had made a huge mistake in taking advantage of Mrs Potts' hospitality by drinking so much water without also using her bathroom before I left.

Glancing down at my Sat Nav I saw that I still had thirty-nine minutes to go. Thirty-nine minutes with the Atlantic Ocean splashing around my bladder. 

I text Dory and let her know: a sure sign of a good friend I think. There aren't many people that I would keep up to date with my bladder activity.

Now my Sat Nav was a Christmas present in 2005. So sometimes it's not the most reliable....

Which is why, forty-five minutes later, I found myself driving down a country lane; a big, white farmhouse with a broken gate the only sign of life outside of my car, around which a confident Australian man called Ken was echoing: 'You have reached your destination.'

I'll let you imagine what I told Ken to do with his destination.

I pulled in alongside the farmhouse and called Jasmine.

'You're lost? Ha! Dory said you'd be lost. Funny. Deep breaths Belle. Maybe stop behind a bush before you drive any further?'

The ability to make fun of you when you're already down. That's the sign of a true friend. Maybe they should print that on a magnet? 

Following the directions I eventually got from Rajah, the only person who could work out where I was, I did- you'll be pleased to know- eventually find the pub that the girls were waiting in.

Within approximately seven minutes I was laughing so much that I was hysterical. Tears were streaming down my face, breathing was enormous effort and my stomach muscles were starting to feel the same way as  they normally feel after my Davina workout DVD.

The last time I had seen the three girls was during what I am quite certain was the best weekend of my life so far: the weekend that Dory married her Rich Prince Charming. So we had a lot of analysing and reminiscing to do. Especially because before Dory met her RPC and Jasmine started pursuing her dreams the three of us lived together.

Similarly to my earlier stories about Minnie, Pumbaa and Jessie, I would never wake up in the night missing the girls, counting down the minutes until I was going to see them again (although that might be because Dory had a charming habit of arriving home drunk, eating a huge pot of olives then climbing into bed with me with a delicious combination of wine and olive breath.) 

Yet the day that we moved out of our flat was an emotional minefield. It was the first (and only) time I have ever seen Princess Jasmine cry, and Lovesong by Sarah Bareilles still brings a tear to my eye because of it.

But none of it matters now. Because we only see each other now and again: when we do we relive our old memories and recreate new ones- and it's like no time has passed at all. 

I know that it ends well- that we're friends forever and that we'll never stop laughing.

So far I've explained my visits to two sets of friends, but they are merely the tip of the iceberg.

Over the past few weeks I have visited Timone, Mr and Mrs Potato Head, Hercules and the Irish Prince, and after each and every visit I have walked out with the same two thoughts:

1. I am a grown-up. Okay, not me personally. But I'm at a grown up age. I'm at an age now that I can say (and often do- when I'm mistaken for being nineteen) 'No I finished my degree a few years ago now.' My best friends are planning their weddings, throwing dinner parties for their live-in boyfriends' families (whether they want to or not in some cases, which leads me to..), complaining about their mother-in-law, wearing suits to work, making mortgage payments and going to the Maldives for two weeks with 'the other half'.

I genuinely see myself as an eighteen year old. I just cannot believe the difference that time makes. I'm definitely going to be one of those hairy aunties at weddings saying 'My goodness I remember when you were in nappies!' Time just blows my mind.

2. I wish I could go back to university. My favourite musical features the brilliant song 'I wish I could back to college' which sums up how I feel exactly. I would do anything to go back to that amazing time, relive the memories and fall back into that lifestyle....

Here are my Top Ten Things To Miss About University...


1. The stories. Every day is a new adventure at uni- there's always a drama, always a story. One of the best stories from my three years at university is the time that Dory woke up in bed with our third housemate Sally's boyfriend. Not because anything dodgy had happened, but because he had been so drunk he had wandered from the bathroom into the wrong bed, and she had been so drunk that she had assumed it was one of the lads who lived downstairs that she had kissed once (which would have been perfectly acceptable according to her intoxicated logic). My favourite part of this story though, was that when we were analysing the situation at breakfast (once the police had been notified that The Missing Boyfriend had been found- seriously- and Jasmine had managed to stop laughing), Dory commented: 'Mm I did think it was a bit weird when he told me he loved me, farted and rolled over.'

Only at university.

2.  Having permanent company. When you're at uni you're never more than two minutes away from friends. Even if you're in an empty flat you're probably a staircase away from a huge group of people waiting to entertain you. If ever I was bored, confused, angry or just thought of something hilarious that I immediately needed to share, I knew I could always wander into somebody's bedroom and everything would be right again. Sometimes Jasmine used to just lay on my floor while I wrote essays (that was until the ant infestation),   and I ran into Naala's room in tears so many times during my third year that I doubt she remembers what I look like when I smile.

3. Being able to work hard and play hard every day of the week and somehow not get tired. I know I said that I'm a grown-up now but I'm not that old. Yet somehow the ability to be out until three and fresh-faced in a classroom at nine has gone somewhat downhill since I turned twenty-one. I didn't used to think anything of being in lectures from nine until six, working out for an hour with Davina, having dinner, hopping in the shower then being in Lava until it closed at three. There's no way I could do that three/four nights a week now. And it's definitely not because I work harder now than I did at university.

Although there was a time during my third year when one of my tutors told me she thought I should cut down my Student Ambassador hours because I looked rough. I decided to go for the 'well what can I say? I'm a martyr' shrug rather than tell her the truth which was: Lava.

Which leads me to number four....

4. Lava Ignite. 
The best nightclub there ever was.
A wonderful combination of every sportsperson from the university, £2.30 drinks (for the wilder students. Not for me. I had to pay £2.60 for a water. Cheek really.) and as much Whitney/S Club/H20 as you could handle.

It's now a gym. What a waste.

5. Living near everything. I know that this doesn't just apply to university life- this one really comes from city life but I had never lived in a city before and the novelty never wore off. You're only ever a two minute walk from a newsagents selling all the chocolate/ice cream/sweets you could possibly need.  (Albeit a rather dangerous one. In my second year I lived two doors away from a newsagents and still experienced a thirteen year old girl being beaten up by a thirty year old woman on my walk once.) You can be in the city centre within ten minutes no matter where you live (obviously this applies to Coventry and not every city), you've got restaurants, night clubs, cinema and ice skating on your doorstep and you can walk everywhere (if you're willing to wear flat shoes, a pony tail and a coat to the door of the club then transform yourself like Claudia Schiffer does in Westlife's Uptown Girl video when you get there. Timone and I did that every Tuesday for two years in Coventry.)

Having grown up a train ride away from the nearest post office, this was beyond exciting.

6. Endless TV discoveries from living near so many people. It was through DVD borrowing at uni that I discovered The Inbetweeners and Gavin and Stacey. Both essential to surviving the modern world now.

7. The University of Warwick Latin and Ballroom Team.
Okay this one is fairly specific to me. But I'm sure that you can relate and apply it to a group of people you miss. There's something about a university sports team that is different from any other kind of team- there's an inexplicable bond that you don't get in other places. My time with the Warwick team has left me with far too many wonderful- and sometimes surreal- memories to mention. But they will stay with me forever.

8. Studying. 
I can't tell whether this one is completely obvious or I'm demonstrating my slightly geeky side again. I love studying, I love working really hard on something, finishing it and getting results. I love having that oh-my-goodness-I've-got-so-much-to-do-how-will-I-ever-get-it-done? feeling. I haven't had that since I left university. I'm sure I will again though. When age catches up with me and I get a grown-up job.

9. Being busy all the time.

Now I'm fairly sure this one depends on what kind of student you are/were. But I was a busy student. I worked hard at every single piece of work I was given- even the ridiculous seminar homework that the lecturers set then never asked about. I spent most of my evenings and weekends dancing for Warwick, my nights partying, my spare hours working for the Recruitment and Admissions Office (thanks to my pathetic loan entitlement) and somehow managed to find myself an Irish Prince (and a few Irish Frogs on the way as well actually...)

I love being busy all the time and it's something that I'm looking forward to returning to When I Grow Up.

10. Every single person that I met whilst I was studying. (Nearly.) 

I met so many amazing people whilst I was living in Coventry- people from all over the world that I would never have met in any other situation. People who made me laugh, made me cry, understood me, disagreed with me, sympathised, empathised, taught, learnt and made the person I am today. I will stop there before I cross the line into embarrassing.

On the other hand, there are certain memories that leave me feeling relieved that I am out of there....

1. Dodgy landlords. 

I absolutely loved my Halls of Residence. I loved my little bedroom, loved my housemates, loved the layout. But between October and February we had no heating whatsoever. I cannot explain how cold I was. We would sit writing our essays in coats and gloves, and once accidentally set the fire alarm off and had a visit from a Fireman because we were huddled round the hob with all four rings on.

After approximately five hundred notes, phone calls, visits to the office and letters, we were each given one week's rent back. Outrageous.

The experience that I had with my second landlord was horrendous: if I tell you I'll put you off of university forever. But rest assured: he's in prison now.

2. Dying of embarrassment watching drunk girls get naked on stage to win a mug. 

I never found it funny, I just wanted to curl into a horrified ball and cry for the poor sober girl who was going to wake up to those memories (and no doubt photos) the next day. 'That's someone's little girl' just went round and round my head. Maybe I'm a little bit innocent...

3. My dissertation. 

I'm not one of those people that loved researching and writing their dissertation. I actually remember that as quite a dark period in my life. Perhaps not helped by the fact that the Irish Prince was only in his second year at the time and would come round to mine at two in the morning- ridiculously drunk- and pass out in my bed while I continued to write.

I should probably mention here that he did stay a whole night in the library with me once. We only popped in for fifteen minutes at ten pm, and left at seven thirty the following morning: whole thing finished and printed. It was the only all-nighter ever did. And I did it three weeks before the deadline because I just couldn't take it hanging over my head any more.


4. Carrying my ridiculously heavy shopping back from Sainsbury's. 

Now I'm starting to sound my age.

But I used to insist on doing one weekly shop to save time and money, and I'd insist on walking- to save money- and there were times that I genuinely worried that my arms would just fall off in the middle of the road, hands still clutching the bags of Quorn and salad.


Each time I am reunited with my favourite uni friends I am filled with nostalgia and a longing to go back.

Then I think about each thing that I've done since I finished my degree and find myself filled with a longing to go back and repeat that experience as well.

So perhaps, as much as I loved my time at university, going back wouldn't be the answer.

As the cast of Avenue Q point out: 'If I were to go back to college- think what a loser I'd be. I'd walk through the Quad and think- Oh My God. These kids are so much younger than me...'

 Maybe in three years time I'll be wishing I could come back to this day- right now. The day that I spent making an Ugly Bug Ball with the gorgeous two year old that I Nanny for. Maybe I'll be wishing I could go back and live in Florida again. (I'm quite sure I'll be wishing that one.) Or maybe I'll have learnt to just be grateful for where I am.

After all....I'll be twenty-six by then. And that's really grown up :)