That's What Friends Are For

I had been in Florida for four weeks when I ventured over to Universal with a group of princesses that I work with. We were chatting over an IHOP breakfast (my first ever: if you've never experienced it I highly recommend going) when Rapunzel and Cinderella- princesses who have been here far longer than I have- said the exact words that I needed to hear.

"You won't feel settled yet. You probably don't and you're probably beating yourself up for the fact because it feels like you've been here forever. Week eight is the week that you settle. You'll see."

The fact that Rapunzel had just casually mentioned it over eggs and pancakes while Cinderella sipped her coffee and nodded profusely in the background meant a lot to me- they had been here too. I was not alone. 

For the rest of that day- and probably for the rest of that week- I found that thought reassuring. I had another four weeks to go before I should feel settled. I still had time. 

Then one day I was sitting on the bus when Dumbo unexpectedly got on too. We discussed the previous night's events, arranged dinner plans for that evening, moaned about American food and laughed at ridiculous things that only we would find funny. She then stopped for coffee, leaving me to continue my journey alone. I skipped to work, bumping into three different people I knew on the way. I breezed into the backstage area and shouted hello to everyone I saw before going on stage and working with a smile for the rest of the day. 

When my work day finished I decided to grab a drink from the UK Pavilion and wander around Epcot's World Showcase with it- perhaps stopping to share my culture and try some foreign food. I had promised my best friends that I would cook for them that night so planned to wait for them to finish work so that we could pop to the supermarket and get food together before returning to my apartment to eat. 

What actually happened was that I got so carried away drinking my cider in the sun and looking at the beautiful countries that by the time I got to Italy I could barely string a sentence together and sent an embarrassingly sentimental text to Dumbo and Tigger that I'm sure is going to be read out regularly in an effort to make me cringe. 

Thankfully a bottle of water and an English Bay Sugar Cookie managed to lessen the effects and I made it to the supermarket and back to mine without embarrassing myself much further.

On arriving at mine with the ingredients that I had genuinely intended to cook for everyone, I soon discovered that I had accidentally let myself become hangry. Now for those of you who don't know,  hanger is a condition that affects a small percentage of the population. Caused by a lack of food, it results in cruel words and occasional seemingly unreasonable tears. 

People who do not suffer with hanger on a regular basis tend not to take it seriously. Even my absolute best friends from home refused to worry about it until Pumbaa and I went on holiday together in 2008 and she had to experience the full of effects of my condition without back-up. They've fed me at three hour intervals ever since. 

So as I was heating the pan in preparation for cooking for Tigger and Dumbo, I hadn't actually realised what was happening until Dumbo gave me a look. 

She stepped in front of the stove, took the pan from me and said 'You're hangry. Sit down. I'll cook.' 

Tigger didn't even react. He got another pan from the cupboard and busied himself with the sauce. 

I sat down with a drink, and watched them cook. In my kitchen. They didn't ask where anything was, if they could use anything: they made themselves perfectly at home. 

They put the dinner in front of me, I took one bite and- that was it. The spell was broken. I was no longer hangry. 

We laughed for the entire night. 

I shut the door behind them at one the following morning, smiling to myself. 

And that was the moment. 

The moment that I realised that I was smack bang in the middle of week eight. And I was settled. 

Three weeks later I had another moment: the first moment that it really hit me that I was in America. Not just abroad, not just in Disney World, or even Florida, but America. 

Obviously I knew I was in America. I had spotted the endless differences from the UK (the food, the television, the funny way they pronounce Parmesan), but it wasn't until I walked into a five-thousand-person private pool party held at Disney's Typhoon Lagoon Water Park that I really registered: I am in America now. 

Huge groups of bikini-clad girls were squealing in excitement, lads were flying out of the flumes with their fists in the air, rows and rows of heads were disappearing as the wave pool swept them away, spotlights flashed on the beach where hundreds of people were doing The Macarena on the sand-dance-floor. The whole place was vibrating with the volume of the music, the air smelt like a surprisingly brilliant combination of catered food and chlorine, and almost every single person was sporting something they had won: an eye patch, a bandanna, a big hat: you name it, if it was pirate themed- you could see it. 

It was like every American teen movie you've ever seen.

I didn't even know things like this happened in real life. 

I loved it. 

For the first five minutes. 

But in those first five minutes that's exactly how it felt: like I was watching an American teen movie. Not taking part in it. 

Then I bumped into Woody and Russell. 

The second I saw them I stepped into the movie. Woody was wearing a bright red hat and the biggest, cheesiest grin I have ever seen, and Russell was wearing a gorgeous beach dress and enveloped me immediately in a hug whilst shouting 'waheeey here she is!'

I spent the rest of what I think was my favourite night in America so far with a combination of Woody, Russell, Aladdin, Dumbo, Tigger, Piglet and many, many more brilliant characters. 

The music was amazing. The rides were awesome. The heated pools were fab. Meeting Captain Jack Sparrow was...actually a bit scary. The fireworks, the beach, the dancing, the N-Sync impersonators...I could go on forever- everything was so well organised, everything was in place for the perfect night. 

But without the company of all of these wonderful people from all over the world- it would have meant nothing. 

The same as my time here in America would mean nothing.

Walt Disney famously said 'You can design and create and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality.'

So this is me being grateful for every single person who has helped make my dream a reality; and ensured that my reality is every bit as wonderful as my dream.

Thank you :) 

Keep It Magical

The other day Aladdin ended his text to me with the line 'keep it real.' I sat on the bus grinning like the Cheshire Cat as I explained that I have never been, and will never be, cool enough to 'keep it real.'

A few minutes later he replied that I was right. He told me instead to 'Keep It Magical.'

In those three words I feel that he totally summed my attitude. If I didn't think that I'd be disowned from my family forever I'd get those words tattooed on me somewhere.

When I worked as an Activity Instructor at a holiday resort I felt that the most important thing was that the children could temporarily suspend reality enough to feel like they really were learning to be Cowboys in the Wild Wild West; that the clues that they were searching for really had been left by a pirate; that the evidence that they found in Cool Detectives really had been found for the first time by them.

When I was nannying I felt the same- the best part of it for me was inventing characters for the children to know and love and believe in.

When I was asked at my Disney interview what I liked most about my job I told a story.

On my first day as an activity instructor there were two empty drainpipes leaning against the wall. When the first two children came tearing into the garden in excitement, their immediate and totally natural response was 'OH MY GOODNESS! THERE ARE TWO CANNONS HERE- A PIRATE'S BEEN!'

That was the moment that I realised that working with children is for me.

No adults I had ever worked with (at this point) would have had that natural reaction.

Since that position I have gone for jobs as a nanny, an entertainer, a birthday party princess and in Disney World, and until Aladdin sent me that text I had not realised that the one thing that every job has in common is that they involve Keeping It Magical.

Three months ago I wrote a blog post describing my attempts to 'Spread The Joy.'

Since that post I have continued to make an effort to make people smile; but with a Magical Disney twist.

And one of my favourite things about working for Disney is that they not only allow this but they encourage it.

 Which, in turn, means that when I go to play in the parks on my days off I can experience the magic myself.

Here are a few of my favourite examples....

1. Real Magic.

I recently went for breakfast at the Grand Floridian Resort and Spa (as amazing as it sounds, I assure you). As we were among the first to arrive we were lucky enough to be able to watch the children in front of us say the magic word in order to unlock the door to the restaurant.

The magic word was 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'

And as the two small girls shouted the words- 'poof!'- the door opened and Mary Poppins was standing in the doorway.

Real Magic.

2. Inexplicable Magic.

The following day Dumbo and I went for lunch at the Beast's Castle (I've eaten in my apartment approximately three times since I moved in). We checked in for lunch, ordered, then wandered round to explore the castle while we waited for our food. We could have been in any room in the huge castle yet somehow they knew exactly where to bring our food. When I asked the server, he smiled and said 'You know this is an enchanted castle ma'am', before winking and disappearing.

A week later I watched Beauty and the Beast and I genuinely felt like I had been inside that film a few days before.

Amazing.

3. Little things.

A few weeks ago I was out for breakfast when the waitress began pouring glasses of orange juice for everyone. Having seen what it's like to work in food and beverage for Disney I decided against announcing my allergy to oranges to everyone: it's a big deal backstage if an allergy's known and I didn't want to do that to the lovely lady looking after us that day. So instead I just covered my glass and said no thank you.

She smiled and offered me tea or coffee instead.

Which in itself would have been perfect service.

A few moments later she appeared with a large glass of water for me instead.

Just like magic.

I'm still thinking about that glass of water a month later: she's probably so used to making small magic every day that she didn't even notice how special it was.

4. Personal Magic.

A couple of weeks ago Aladdin and I went to watch Disney's Electrical Parade in Magic Kingdom. As Cinderella's beautiful carriage went by, the princess smiled and waved as usual then pointed at the girl next to me and mouthed 'Happy Birthday.'

Of all the things that her parents may have paid for in Disney World: a special dinner, presents, merchandise, that moment is the number one thing that that little girl will remember about her birthday- about any of her birthdays- something that was free of charge and just took two people to make happen: the genius who created the birthday badges for guests to wear, and Cinderella, who went to the effort of looking for the badge and pointing it out.

That day she could have smiled and waved easily and made everyone's day magical. But she chose to make that child feel extra special- something that she will treasure probably for the rest of her life.

5. Extra Magic.

I wasn't actually there for this story but I feel the need to share it anyway- I know you'll appreciate it.

Ella was five years old and had spent five years reading, watching and falling in love with the characters of Winnie the Pooh. So when she came to Walt Disney World her number one priority was getting an Eeyore soft toy. She had waited and waited to get it, and when she did she carried him everywhere around the park like her new best friend.

As Ella, her parents and her grandparents were skipping along the streets of Epcot, Eeyore leapt out of Ella's arms and straight into the path of her Grandma's electric wheelchair where he was promptly torn apart.

Luckily at that moment Lucy was walking past. Lucy was an Epcot Cast Member who happened to be a stuffed animal doctor. She knelt down beside Eeyore and checked his pulse. It was still there. She lifted him carefully and took him in to first aid.

After a worrying fifteen minutes in the waiting room, Ella sighed in relief then squealed in excitement as Eeyore was wheeled out in his own wheelchair with his arm in a sling and a bandage across his eye.

I will remember this story forever and I wasn't even there- can you imagine how magical that was for Ella and her family?

I imagine she'll be telling that story into her eighties.

Magic happens all the time in Walt Disney World- I see it every single day: at work, on my way home, on my days off, and then I get home and hear stories of magic happening from my friends and housemates.

Before I came to Disney my Grandma said that she wondered how I would face the real world after being here for a year.

I later said to my mum that I was sure I would be fine- I'm only working in Disney, I'm still exposed to the real world here.

But actually, the more time I spend here the more I think my Grandma might have been right.

Last week I ventured to the supermarket and a UPS store and took a taxi home.

The whole experience was so un-magical- everyone I encountered was rude and unhelpful and I felt like I had ruined everyone's day by even leaving my house. When I was almost home I got a text from Aladdin saying he had sent Tinkerbell to give me a hug.

 When I got back to Disney housing I was so traumatised that I poured the whole story out to security with tears in my eyes.

Guess what the Disney Security Guard did?

She gave me a big hug and told me that my day would get a whole lot better now.

So Tinkerbell really did get the message.

That one morning spent outside of Disney showed me that I'm already so used to magic that I struggle with the real world, and I don't know if Tinkerbell can send messages all the way back to Essex....

So I was thinking, maybe we should all add magic to our attempts at Spreading the Joy.

Maybe if we all injected a little bit of magic into everyday life Disney would no longer be the happiest place on Earth because the Earth would be a happy place.

Maybe I'm not going to change the world with my attempts at magic.

But Aladdin, Dumbo and far too many other cast members to name have made my world- and the worlds of millions of others- a magical place to be. And that counts for a lot.

So as you go about your daily life- Spreading the Joy and making people smile- consider the effect that you could have on those around you- and Keep It Magical :)

Just Imagine....

In March 2003 my PSHE class was set the task of writing an essay on where we hoped to find ourselves in ten years.

It wasn't supposed to be fantasy, we weren't allowed in any way to use our imagination (God forbid let children be creative) : it had to be a realistic view of what we wanted to achieve in the ten years leading to our twenty-fourth birthdays.

I still clearly remember writing mine and presenting it confidently to my form tutor, with absolutely no doubt as to whether it would come true. It would. It was what I wanted more than anything and I would make it come true.

Yep, by the time I was twenty-four I was definitely going to be….

An engaged travel agent.

Why would I ever want to be anything else?

I can still see the image I had in my head that day. I pictured walking home from work in the Going Places uniform, letting myself into a flat where my lovely fiancé ( a specific lad that I sat with in Science and who I still bump into in Asda every now and again) would just be serving up Spaghetti Bolognese and a glass of wine (because by the time I turned twenty-four I’d definitely like wine), and we’d  romantically eat it over a candle lit table before meeting our friends (the same best friends from school- with their same current boyfriends) for a sophisticated evening of wine tasting and French films.

My teacher put on that ‘Ooh, fancy!’ voice that they do when they’re trying to be down with the kids and talk about boyfriends and said ‘An engaged travel agent! Well that sounds very good, Rebecca, I think you could do that.’

‘I will’, I replied confidently.

And now here we are. Ten years later. March 2013.

I did walk home from work on Friday night and let myself into my lovely flat.

But instead of sitting down to a romantic home-cooked meal I dashed around to get ready to go out for dinner.

I did meet my friends but they were new friends- friends that didn't all grow up in Essex and go to my school and remember the time that I wore bin bags all day for charity (why do these things seem like such a good idea at the time?!), we did have a few drinks (pomegranate lemonade for me though because- shock horror- I still don’t like wine), and we did watch a film. But it was in English. And not quite so sophisticated as some French films.

Okay it was Aladdin. 

And instead of spending my day at work booking people’s holidays, I spent my day at work on people’s holidays.

I walked in to work with the sound of A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes floating through the air, and on my way bumped into Duffy the Disney Bear, a few princesses and a lot of Minnie ears.

Throughout my day I was working  directly opposite Alice in Wonderland, who was meeting people who had travelled from all over the world to see her.

To my left was Mary Poppins, doing the same thing.

Christopher Robin lives in the building that was to my right, and Winnie the Pooh  and Tigger were in there playing for the day.

I then walked home through the crowded audience watching a Canadian band, listening to their music and dodging dancing couples as I did so. 

On Saturday morning I got up early and made my way to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. 

In March 2003 that world was, as it is to most people my age, a big deal. Back then it only existed in people's imaginations but it very much existed. It came with me to the beach in the summer, the fire side in the winter, on buses, trains, planes and car journeys. 

Since I've been in Florida it has given me the opportunity to speak to people from all over the world that I would otherwise have nothing in common with. 

Then on Saturday it became real. 

I walked straight into my own imagination and could see, touch, smell, hear and even taste the things that I had imagined since I first found Hogsmeade in 2003. 

All I could think the whole time was: 

This came from one woman's mind. 

How did one person manage to create a whole, wonderful, believable, magical world that almost everyone can relate to?

Just as I was marveling at this, I walked into the next world along from Harry Potter's, and my mind was once again blown. 

Dr Seuss World.

I walked along and took in all my favourite characters, quotes and images from The Cat In The Hat, The Lorax, The Grinch and, my favourite book of all time ever- Oh! The Places You'll Go. 

Those of you who know me well will know that the child in me lives quite close to the surface anyway. But as I walked through a second world of characters that had- until now- only lived in my imagination, I felt the child in me wriggling to get out. 

I could quite happily have galloped around Dr Seuss World shouting 'Wow!' and 'I want that!' at everything, knocking over other guests and jumping right in everyone's way. 

Luckily, the Nanny in me took over just in time and I told myself I could have a Cat In The Hat biscuit if I promised to calm down for the rest of the day. 

Since working in Disney World I have learnt a lot about Walt Disney, and he has recently joined J.K Rowling and Dr Seuss on my list of heroes. 

The idea of creating a world in which you can meet the characters of your imagination and be physically inside the worlds that had, until then, only existed in your mind just blows me away. 

I have met a surprising number of people working here that love Disney for the rides rather than for the characters or the setting. For me, Disney World has always been about the characters. For me, it's about dreams literally coming true. This is a world in which you can actually meet Cinderella and Prince Charming, a world where it's normal to bump into Mickey Mouse walking down the street, and where children get to meet their heroes every single day of the week. 

Most of all, this is a place where imagination is the most important thing ever. 

If it wasn't for imagination, the characters would never have existed, the park itself would never have existed, and the magic would not continue to make people's lives every single day. 

I wonder, had I been allowed to use my imagination and creativity that day in March 2003, whether I still would have said that by twenty-four I'd be an engaged travel agent? 

Probably not. 

I wonder whether I would have said that my life would involve being friends with Mickey Mouse, spending days off in Hogsmeade and my evenings at Cinderella's Castle? 

Also probably not. 

Walt Disney once famously said 'You're dead if you only go for kids. Adults are only kids grown up anyway.'

So I'm not the adult I thought I would be. I'm not engaged, I don't own a flat, like wine or speak French. But my world is happy and magical and exciting every day. 

Childhood is wasted on children anyway, right?

I'm taking mine now :) 

At Last I See The Light

So this time two weeks ago I was sitting in my Minnie-Mouse-clad kitchen, surrounded by (almost) all of my favourite people; raising a glass and shedding a few bittersweet tears over the fact that I was about to embark on the year of my dreams.

And now here I am. Curled up on the sofa eating cheese on toast, watching The Princess Diaries and writing my first stateside blog. Living the dream.

As sarcastic as that may sound- I'm actually being genuine.

Somebody from home told me that he worries about me every day. Not because of the high rate of gun crime in America. Not because of the threat of Mother Nature in this part of the world. But because this has been my dream for so long that he fears that it won't live up to my expectations, and that that disappointment could be far more dangerous for me than any American politics.

Luckily I have been able to assure him that- at least two weeks in- the dream is coming true and even exceeding expectations.

Not everything is as I predicted though.

I had prepared myself for Disney. I had prepared myself for basic housing (something that has far exceeded my expectations), and I had prepared myself for the usual culture shock that comes with moving abroad.

What I had not prepared myself for was just how huge the culture shock would be.

America is different from England.

A lot more different than I expected.

Until now all of my knowledge of American culture has come from a combination of Friends, Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives; and somehow I had never registered that America does actually exist outside of the television, and a lot of the ridiculous things that appear on these programmes are actually a part of real life here....

1. Country and Western Bars.
Last night I was lucky enough to visit one very similar to the one that the characters from Desperate Housewives often frequent. Yep- they actually exist. Almost everyone was wearing stetsons and boots, there was free beer, and we spent the evening line dancing to a combination of country and western and Pit Bull.

Surreal.

That would never happen in the UK.

2. Outrageous food portions.
On my first night here we went out for dinner in Hooters (who knew they actually existed outside of Big Daddy?!) and I ate all of mine.
On finishing I looked up to find that everybody else had eaten less than half. 

Everyone laughed and commented that I must have been starving: I actually wasn't, I'm just very well trained in eating all of my dinner. I have since come to accept that wasting copious amounts of food every meal time is a part of life here- if I tried to eat everything I was given by the time I arrived home to be Minnie Mouse's bridesmaid my dress would be unlikely to fit my little finger.

There are also (don't judge me for saying this) outrageously huge people. I have never, in the twenty-three years and nine months that I spent living in Europe, seen anyone as big as people are here. I didn't even know they made clothes that big. Crazy.

3. No care for the environment whatsoever. At least in Florida.
The staff in Walmart use a plastic bag per item, there are no recycling facilities outside of Disney and, as mentioned, they waste food like there's too much of it in the world. Seems a bit ridiculous that we all go to so much effort in our little corner of the world really.

4. Random Applause.
I love this one. I don't know for definite whether it's America or Disney- but based on my minimal research I do believe it's fairly standard in America to clap and cheer for everything. During my training we would watch boring video clips about health and safety- and even on one occasion stealing- and when it finished everyone would clap and cheer like we were front row in a Beyonce concert. Hilarious. I'd love to bring it home with me because it does really lift the spirits but I think in Britain we might be a bit more comfortable with an 'ooh that was a lovely video, cup of tea?'

5. Bedding.
Bedding is so confusing. I was under the (misguided) impression that although they referred to bed sheets in sitcoms, they did actually mean duvets because Ross has one in Friends.
He doesn't. I'm thinking of suing.
What Ross has is a comforter- a thin duvet that doesn't have a cover.

I decided that would be fine. I would just buy sheets to put on the comforter so that it was more like a duvet. But they weren't duvet-covering sheets like I expected, but just random, thin, uncomfortable-shiny-material sheets to sleep under. So now the gorgeous Minnie Mouse sheets that I paid a small fortune for are hidden under my comforter anyway.

America might be ahead with a lot of things but they are definitely behind when it comes to bedding.

6. Disgusting supermarket items.
When it comes to food, you can buy more or less anything in Walmart. They even still sell Starburst Joosters over here (my all time favourite sweets- that moment in Walmart might have been a highlight of the whole year), but with those come some fairly repulsive options. Sachet of blue cheese anyone? Box of dried macaroni cheese? Beef Jerky? Or my personal favourite- and the most popular snack sold in the whole of Walt Disney World- giant turkey leg?
Who thinks of this stuff? And more to the point- who buys it?! 

7. Serious lack of understanding when it comes to sarcasm.
This has put me in a couple of awkward situations already.

During Disney training they announce approximately five hundred million times that THE DRINKING AGE IN AMERICA IS 21.

So when my Canadian roommate- who has been here for seven months already- asked me how training was going and mentioned that it can be a bit repetitive, I responded 'yeah it's going well thanks, but I feel like they haven't told us the drinking age enough yet- I can still never remember.' Her answer? 'Oh it's 21'.

In her defence it is the lowest form of wit.


It's not just the lifestyle either. The language used here is surprisingly different. Not just the obvious ones- trash can, sidewalk, parking lot- but a few others as well...

1. Chips: crisps.
Okay this is a fairly obvious one, but it didn't make it any less disappointing when I asked for a side order of chips with my dinner and got a bowl of crisps.

2. Spot: parking space.
At the risk of sounding patronising I find this one adorable. There's nothing like hearing an adult saying 'oh we're okay, there are plenty of spots here.' So cute. 

3. Elliptical: cross trainer.
This one is so far away from what we would say that when one of the girls told me that she was aching because she'd been on the elliptical the night before I made a mental note to avoid that ride in the Magic Kingdom.

4. Romper: Playsuit.
I do prefer playsuit but somehow romper sounds a lot more fun....what do you think?

5. Faucet: Tap.
No idea where this came from. Not even a little bit alike.

6. Go ahead.
This is just added by Americans to the beginning of a sentence telling you to do something. This featured a lot in our training because we were so often being told what to do. 'Now you can just go ahead and write your name on it' was said so many times that I thought it might creep into my own vocabulary, but I'm not convinced that I could pull it off in my Essex accent.

Since I've been here I've found a few phrases that I would love to pick up but that I know would just never be the same in my accent...

1. Y'all.
I love this. It's casual and affectionate and sounds lovely. If you're from Florida. If you're from Chelmsford it sounds more like Yule. As in the chocolate cake you have at Christmas. Maybe I won't start using it.

2. Critters.
This isn't so much a phrase I'd like to pick up, but a word that can definitely only be said in an American accent. I won some last week and had to change my accent to sound like I was from New York every time I gloated about them.

3. Real.
Yesterday as we floated down the Lazy River in Typhoon Lagoon Ariel said: 'This is real.' Ariel is actually from Southampton but does an amazing American accent so can pull of ridiculous phrases like that. I'm determined to get there before the year is up.

4. Good Job!
When I lived in Italy I worked with a lot of Americans who used this with the children and I loved it, but- like the other phrases I've mentioned- it sounds ridiculous when I say it. It's so much more re-affirming than 'well done', especially when it's followed by....

5. Buddy.
'Good job buddy!' sounds so much better than the Essex equivalent- 'well done babes.' Don't you think?

I'm aware that it sounds like I'm being fairly negative in this post- trust me- I'm not. I absolutely love America so far. I love that kids are excited to meet me because I sound 'just like the characters from Harry Potter!', and that adults are excited to get me to repeat the words 'Peter' and 'Darling' (who knew that was all you needed to impress Americans?), I love the lifestyle, the weather, the enthusiasm and the magic that comes from working in The Happiest Place On Earth.

But most of all I love the people that I have been lucky enough to meet here. I have only been here two weeks and already I have met and exchanged stories with people from all around the world. I've heard about amazing lives, incredible experiences and met wonderful people, and already feel that I have made genuine friends in Ariel, Crush, Roo, Snow White, Aladdin and many more.

Exactly one year ago I wrote that I was changing my tactics when it came to getting a job in Disney World. I was going to abandon the other characters and take advice from a new, more determined one: Rapunzel.

It worked.

After all these years of dreaming, finally, I'm standing here. And it's crystal clear: I'm where I'm meant to be.

Here's to a whole year of weird food, crazy clapping and magic making....

How exciting :)

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 :)

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 :)

Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride

It was Saturday afternoon. Having made the journey back from Surrey to Essex for one of my favourite occasions of the year, I was on Chelmsford High Street buying popcorn when my phone vibrated. A text from dad: Just buying popcorn for tonight. Sweet or salted? 

This could mean only one thing: it was X Factor Final weekend.  

Which, in turn, means that there are only three weeks left of the year. 

In just three weeks, 2012 will be over and we will be catapulted into 2013. 

I can't wait. 

2012 has been exciting, dramatic, funny, embarrassing, frustrating, boring, devastating, heart-breaking, painful and unforgettable. 

It has been the most challenging year of my life: it's one that I will never forget but one that I am also delighted to be leaving. 

Now I understand that the most challenging year of my life might be the dream for another person; and I promise that this post is not going to be a pity party. 

It's quite famously said that the difficult times are what make you: they test you, drain you, teach you, and leave you ready to take on the world as a stronger, wiser person. 

I'm not sure that I totally believe that. Genuine tragedies don't make people; they break them. 

But in my case I think it may be true. Maybe the changes that this year has made to my view of the world and the people in it are going to serve me well throughout my life. Maybe they will help me make decisions, help me to accept certain inevitable truths and leave me more prepared for whatever else life may decide to throw at me. 

So as we near the end of 2012 I began thinking about what this roller coaster (I thought I'd continue with the X Factor theme) year has taught me...

1. That I have amazing friends around me. 

There's a famous saying that when trouble strikes 'you know who your friends are.' I always understood this to mean that the friends who are there for you during the difficult times as well as the good times are the real ones: the ones you can really trust. Those who bolt during the bad times are no good. 

I always knew who my friends were: and I was right. There was a time this year when my bedroom looked like an over-stocked florist. The room was filled with cards, vases of flowers, boxes of chocolates, ornaments with life-affirming messages on them....

Minnie Mouse, Cowgirl Jessie, Pumba and Jiminy Cricket made absolutely certain that I knew that despite the fact that I was living in a different country with a different language (read my posts on Ireland from January and March for more details on that)- they were always there for me. Cowgirl Jessie even made the journey over to the Emerald Isle and was putting a smile on my tear-stained little face quicker than you can say 'Yeehah!'

But what I learnt this year was that the circle of trust around me is far bigger than I originally thought. 

Firstly, I got an email from Daisy Duck. Now if the situation was reversed, and Daisy Duck had been having a difficult time, I am ashamed to say that I don't think that I would have got in touch. I would have worried that she would think I was merely being nosy and didn't really have her best interest at heart. 

Her email made me happier than I'm sure she will ever know. She worded it in a way that told me that she genuinely cared. She offered herself as somebody to talk to if I needed to, and nobody was more surprised than I was when I took her up on it. I poured my heart out to her and she responded in a way that told me that I was normal, and that everything would be okay again.

Hearing that from somebody outside of my normal circle of trust was surprisingly reassuring.

I then got a similar offer from Mary Poppins- who had known me for around four months at the time- which I also accepted. Mary Poppins made me laugh until I cried. I laughed the most I think I've ever laughed in one sitting. What an amazing person: to offer to comfort somebody she barely knew, and to do it so well. Turns out she really is practically perfect in every way. 

Then my Fairy Godmother revealed herself. I had been living with her as an employee for around four months when she came home and made the mistake of asking how I was; prompting a waterfall of tears and a messy barrage of words attempting to explain what had caused them. She listened. She listened to everything I said without judgement or interruptions. (I should point out now that this was during lent when I had given up chocolate: something that made the whole thing ten times worse I assure you.) Having finished listening, she hugged me and told her own stories to reassure me, like Daisy Duck, that I was normal and that I would get through this. She then walked out to her car, and brought back in with her a huge box of Thornton's chocolates: I think you should eat these pet. There's nothing else making you happy right now: give in. 

My Fairy Godmother was my boss. I have since lived with bosses who have treated me like the staff member I am. She treated me like her baby sister and I know that I could turn to her with a problem now and she would listen. 

These are just examples of some of the wonderful people who listened to me and provided me with copious amounts of chocolate and, once I was diagnosed as allergic to chocolate (thanks 2012), with endless sweets, hugs and words of reassurance that everything would get better. 

2. That everything would be a million times worse if I was an only child. 

My brothers have the ability (and the cheek) to turn everything into a joke and turn even the heaviest heart into a feather. The best example of this that I can think of is the time (six years ago now) that I failed my...well let's just say it wasn't my first driving test...

Everyone was full of sympathy. I got hugs and sorry frowns, and little shoulder rubs and reassuring 'you'll definitely do it next time' messages. 

Except Mowgli. 

From Mowgli I got: 'You failed again?! Bloody hell that's got to be a record hasn't it?' paired with a sly grin and a cheeky glint in his eye. 

At this point, that was exactly what I needed. 

Obviously six years ago I did appreciate that my brothers make me laugh in a way that nobody else can; but until this year I hadn't realised just how much harder everything would be without them. The three of us find things funny that nobody else ever would. We remember things that nobody else can remember, are honest in a way that would be rude from anyone else, and most of all: understand our parents in a way that can never be explained. 

3. That nothing is forever. 

Obviously I've been told this before and somewhere in my consciousness I'm sure that I was aware of this fact. But if somebody had told me this time last year that I would leave the job that I loved in Ireland to move to Greece on my own and work for a con company doing a job that I didn't sign up for, eating in the most foul-smelling room in existence and being treated like I'd murdered somebody when I was sick I would have been terrified. 

In reality I handled the whole thing relatively calmly; safe in the knowledge that nobody is ever alone: people are surprisingly kind to strangers- and even if there are no other people around- Skype means that I will never be without a little bit of home. 

I also found that my experience in Greece left me with a lot of positives: I met some wonderful friends, gained a lot of new skills for work in the entertainment industry, learnt a lot about myself and got myself a gorgeous tan that lasted almost the whole summer.

This has changed the way that I will make decisions forever; and is perhaps the reason that I'm probably less nervous about the big move to Florida than I should be. 

Those of you that have read my June post will know that one of the things that I discovered about myself whilst I was in Greece is how proud I am to be British. 2012 has been an amazing year to be British; mainly because of...

1. The Queen's Diamond Jubilee. 

Did we celebrate it by having a few too many at the pub and beating each other up? No. By shouting like football hooligans and causing riots? No. By getting tattoos of Her Majesty on our upper arms or lower backs? Not in my house anyway....

No, we didn't. Because the fact is- despite what pessimists, British expats and the occasional Italian might think- British people as a nation are not drunken hooligans. An occasion like the Queen's Jubilee highlights this by drawing the media's attention away from the few idiots that ruin our reputation, and towards the majority. 

We decorated our houses with pride, made cupcakes, attended pub quizzes, had street parties, drank tea, enjoyed a second Royal Variety Show organised by Gary Barlow, (finally) learnt the words to the National Anthem and explained what the whole thing meant with delight to our children. 

At the time of the jubilee I was working in France and then the Isle Of Wight and every child that I met had an impressive knowledge of the Royal Family. One group of children managed to sing the whole National Anthem with the word 'Queen' replaced by 'Dean' to cheer on their mate on the Aeroball. That might just have been my favourite moment of the whole year, actually. 

2. The Olympics. 

I should probably admit that actually, as wonderful as I think the British are, the hooligans that I spent the Opening Ceremony with did get ridiculously drunk and slur the wrong words to the National Anthem like football yobs at 2 in the morning (Peter Pan, Flynn Ryder, Lumiere and Cowboy Woody- I'm looking at you). 

But the ceremony itself was something that even the most pessimistic expat must have been impressed by. 

My favourite moment of the ceremony was the moment that Rowan Atkinson appeared on our screens. Only minutes before Peter Pan had drunkenly joked: 'the only thing missing is Mr Bean!'. Priceless. 

My proudest moment, of course, was the moment around an hour before the ceremony started. The moment that one of the most beautiful people I know, Gabriella Montez, text me to let me know how excited she was to be appearing in the opening ceremony. 

Now I was in France for the duration of the Olympics which meant that, sadly, my viewing was limited to Volleyball and Cycling. But, having now spent three months back in the UK I can see, as I am sure that you can, what a difference hosting the Olympics in London has made to Britain. British TV, magazines and radio shows are full of successful, hardworking sportsmen and women, children are taking a bigger interest in sport, young people have been inspired to get active and work hard, and less prominent sports like Javelin and Cycling are becoming more and more popular alongside the standard football and netball. 

In my opinion, holding the Olympics in London has changed the whole country in an endlessly positive way: something that we should be very proud of. 

3. James Arthur. 

No explanation needed. 

Choosing Britain's Best Moments of 2012 got me thinking about my own. This year I have been to some wonderful places, met some amazing people and laughed a lot. But I've managed to choose my six top moments of the year (aside from the God Save Our Gracious Dean moment that I've already mentioned)....

1. The two and a half minutes that C'est La Vie by B*Witched was playing in a club in Dublin on St. Patrick's Day night. At the time I thought: this is the best moment of my year so far. It still is. 

2. The time that Lumiere decided to cheer me up in her own unique way. She walked in on me crying about a personal drama. Did she hug me? Tell me everything was going to be okay? Not really her style. I looked up to find her mooning me in broad daylight. Biggest.Smile.Ever. 

3. The moment that my mum and I walked into our hotel room in Disneyland Paris. It was pouring with rain outside; we were freezing cold and dripping wet. The room was warm and bright and decorated so that you were made to feel like you were in one of the car hotels in...well, Cars. The attention to detail was unbelievable, and the feeling of excitement for the parks creeping into my tummy warmed me up more than the heaters in the room did. 

4. The two moments (that I'm taking as one brilliant moment) that I finished the videos that I made of my brothers' lives for their 18th and 21st birthdays. Blood, sweat and tears went into those videos and finishing them and finally seeing them as they would see them on their birthdays sent a proud little butterfly into my tummy. 

5. The moment that Steps sang Love's Got A Hold On My Heart at their reunion tour this year. I was 9 again for two and a half minutes and I loved every second. 

6. I know I said above that the best moment of the year was B*Witched. Actually, it was the second best. But the winner was so good that it's in a league of its own. 

That's right. The moment that I read the email. 

After reviewing your application and interview we are delighted to be the first to say

                                                               Congratulations

You have been offered a place on Disney’s Cultural Representative Program.

As the clock struck twelve on New Year's Day this year, a little voice in my head told me that this year had been sent to test me: that it was going to be difficult. 

Those of you who believe in The Law Of Attraction will tell me that I therefore brought it upon myself. Perhaps by believing it was going to be the most difficult year of my life: that's what it became. 

I hope that's true. 

Because right now I honestly believe that next year, 2013, the year that my dream comes true and I move to Walt Disney World, Florida; is going to be the most exciting, adventurous, magical and wonderful year so far. 

If this year was Thorpe Park's Saw, next year is going to be Lilo and Stitch's Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride.....

Stay tuned to find out...

:)