Foster Care and Me – My Story

I’ve briefly mentioned my care background in past posts, but I never actually sat down and told my story. It’s got some Trigger Warnings, of emotional abuse, child abuse and childhood trauma. It also is a story of determination, grit and hope. It’s about time I told my story, so here goes…

When I was four years old, my mother couldn’t cope with my autism anymore. She was young, had just gone through a divorce, her parents passed away, and she had two daughters, one perfectly normal, healthy happy one, and one that wasn’t talking, and would throw constant temper tantrums and stick to her like superglue. She met a new man (who is now my stepfather), and he nearly left because of my outbursts. My mother was in despair, and decided that the best place for me to be was to be put into care, and adopted out.

Which was what happened.

I flitted from placement to placement for a year, after they realised that I simply wasn’t adoptable, due to the fact that I wasn’t a pretty child, and my autism outbursts grew more and more violent as my life became more unstable. So my care plan was changed, I would be in long term foster care until either my mother could take me back, or I turned eighteen.

After they managed to find me a placement, one that was able to handle my behaviour, things at first looked up. My early childhood in foster care felt alright, as far as I was aware, I’d always been in that family, calling the carers ‘mum’ and ‘dad’, and assuming the other children around me were my biological siblings. My older sister would occasionally come to stay over, and I saw her as this exotic, almost super-human being that I looked up to with awe. We’d also write letters, and I treasured each and every one. Until one day, when I was seven, the foster ‘mother’ sat me down, and dropped the bombshell on me.

“You have an actual mummy on the Isle of Wight, who lives with your sister. She put you into foster care because she couldn’t cope with you, because you’re autistic, which means that you’re not like the other children, and won’t have the same opportunities as them.”

My world came crashing right down, around my ears. I had no idea I was ‘disabled’ or ‘different’ to the other children until this point. And it scared me.

Time went by, and I turned thirteen.

This was when things started to get worse for me.

I was forbidden from taking part in family outings, because I ‘always ruined everything’. I’d be blamed for ruining the other children’s birthdays, because the children actively would pick on me until I lost my temper, and I’d get into trouble as a result. I became a servant in my ‘home’, having a massive list of chores I had to do, long before I was allowed to eat, or head off to school.

Then there was the searches. I’d have to carry up breakfast in bed to the foster ‘mother’ every morning, before I’d have my school bag emptied, and me being patted all over, her hand going up my top to make sure nothing was tucked in my bra, before her telling me what was expected of me for the day, before I was allowed to race down the road to catch the bus for school.

I’d often catch the bus just in time, and I’d get told off by the driver for being late. If only he knew…

So I took to comfort eating, because I’d be given just a sandwich and a piece of fruit for lunch, so I’d be hungry, both physically and emotionally. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have a kind word said to me by an adult, or a cuddle/affection of any kind. Quite often, I’d shoplift sweets and chocolate on the way to school to satisfy my cravings. And when I was caught, which was often, I’d be severely punished and humiliated.

I wasn’t allowed any privacy, anything I wrote had to be read by the foster ‘mother’ first, my diaries, my stories, my poetry, letters to my sister. So I was terrified to pick up my pen to write, unless I on purposely left it in my drawer at school. Often diary entries would be read in front of the other children, with bits being read out loud, bits they knew would embarrass me. I was terrified of having secrets, and bottled everything up.

I was even accused of having sex with a guy I’d walk home from the school bus with when I was fourteen, as we were close friends, and would often hug before I got in the house. It was at a GP appointment, when the doctor asked ‘is she sexually active?’ to the foster mother, who always had to be present. She replied ‘I don’t know, there’s this boy she walks home with, and I do believe she’s slept with him, but she refuses to say anything about it…’ my cheeks burned, I was fourteen years old.

But that year saved me. I missed the school bus one day, because the foster ‘mother’ wouldn’t let me leave until she’d finished her sermon for the day, so instead of allowing my foster ‘father’ take me in the van, (I always thought he was a bit of a creep), I decided to walk all the way to school, a good three or four miles, by myself in the pouring rain. The school panicked, and called my social worker, who called the carers, demanding they go searching for me. They refused, saying it was my own fault, my problem. Also, I could accuse the foster father of molesting me if he went out in search for me alone (genuine words, according to my social worker). In the end, a taxi driver who picked up a girl across the busstop that I’d get on to go to school saw me, took pity and picked me up, and took me in for free. The school reported that I’d been found safe, but needed a dry change of clothes (I was soaked), and the carers refused.

A week later, I was removed from their care. I was placed in emergency respite with the foster mother who would become my permanent  placement until I left foster care. It was wonderful! She bought me new clothes to replace the shabby, threadbare things I used to wear, took me to get my hair cut in a nice style, fed me up, taught me it was ok to argue back sometimes, and instilled in me a love of life again. With her, I had a brief childhood, went on holidays and days out, became a member of a family. I owe her everything, and am still in regular contact with her now. She helped save me from my relationship with my ex, and was very active in helping me get to university. Even now I still call her for advice and guidance, and pop over for a cup of tea and a natter when I need to.

I left care aged 18. I never really wanted to leave, but I knew I had no choice. No one not in care leaves home to stake out alone aged 18, more like 24/5 these days. Luckily they are changing the age to 21 now, but that still isn’t as great.

But what do I know, eh?

 

It’s all OK!

I’m slowly recovering from all the crap that life has been throwing at me.

I say this, because I’m sat in a Starbucks in Bath, tucking into a bagel and planning my study plan for the next month or so (on Tuesday I have exactly a month to get all my assignments in so I don’t fail first year… Such Fun).

Eating has proven to be very difficult for me, as during the time I was dealing with the aftermath of breaking up with my ex, and trying to get my academic life back on track, I started to get really anti-eating. I still hate the idea that I have to put food into my mouth, chew and swallow, but I’m slowly reconciling to the idea that I do have to eat in order to survive. At my worst, I was steadily losing weight, and weighed in at 9 stone (I’m 5’10”, to give you an idea), when I’d started university at 11 stone. After a while, I had to go to the doctor, who told me I had depression, as well as ‘an eating disorder not otherwise specified’ because I don’t purge, have any body dismorphia, but exhibit starving and binging (I try to have 5 starve days to every 3 food days), and gave me medication for it, which I’ve now been taking for a couple of months. I also start CBT next month, so I’ll see how it goes.

I was on my online dating account a little while ago, when a pink icon flashed on my screen. Turns out a guy I’d quite enjoyed talking to the fortnight before, before he didn’t reply for a while, finally got back to me. He asked me on a date! Now, I’d just gotten back from another date that wasn’t so grand, (I’ll write a post about my dating endeavours later), so I was a bit cautious, but then thought ‘capri diem, I guess..’, so agreed. We met for pancakes, he brought flowers, I brought a quaking shy girl with rainbow hair (wait, that’s me!). The pancakes were amazing, the conversation was smooth, and he was alright about my eating issues, and all my disabilities! Huzzah! We’ve been seeing each other every week since, and he stayed over for a night on Friday, before coming with me to Bristol Pride yesterday, and he said he was happy that I’m openly queer! Another Huzzah! He texts me daily to make sure I’m up and about, eating and drinking, and not smoking too much (yes, I picked up smoking, a terrible habit, but I find the ADD subsides when I do). I think I’ve fallen on my feet with this kooky, geeky filmmaker!

On top of this, my friends have been amazing, especially B and L. They are two of the bestest friends I could ever ask for, they come over to make sure I eat something, and encourage my crazy ideas and pursuits (I run a mixology blog with B now, liquorishgirls.wordpress.uk if you wanna check it out!). They were there when my ex sent abusive Facebook messages to me, and helped me deal with that, they assisted with collecting my belongings, and held me whilst I cried.    Obviously my other friends have been pretty darn wonderful to, even if it’s to listen to me whinge, or grumble, share a cigarette and a cocktail with me, and generally make my life so much more enriched and joyful for it.

The university have been lovely as well, I still see my mentor and study tutor from DSA, and will continue to do so until my assignments are complete for the year. I also see my support worker from Student Support as well, and she’s been a rock to me in recent times. Yes, I get chided for drinking and smoking, and attempting my English Literature essay whilst under the influence, but I still adore them all the same.

My foster mother was also pretty awesome when everything blew up, texting me to make sure I was OK, and also assisting me with my ex. She will always be a person I’ll love like I would a mother, and the one I’ll go to if I need an opinion on something, or if I just need a tea and a natter when I’m in Hampshire. Her character radar will always wow me, so quite often I run potential partners by her to see what she recons, and I’ll always respect her opinion and often follow the amazing advice she gives. It’s thanks to her that I’m the determined, stubborn woman I am today, and I hope I’ll make her proud one day.

Without all these people, I don’t know how I would of survived or coped with the past few months. I’m thankful for all of them, and will love them all forever. When you become mentally ill, for whatever reason, you do find out who actually care about you. And that’s freaking awesome!

This coming week is going to be crazy! Today I need to start an assignment, begin getting ideas for a screenplay that could become a film that I work on with my guy (we’ve decided to team up with some filmmakers in Bath that he is good friends with to make a film!), do more in the way of laundry, travel to Leister and back for a job with the Care Leaver’s Association (more about that in a post next week, so stay tuned), go to Bristol for the ADHD Clinic (I’ll update you all on how that goes!) and generally be a good writer/mixologist/student.

Until then!

 

Summer Blues

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I started this post sat in the beautiful grounds of Bath Spa, overlooking the lake, whilst sipping my blackberry liquor and soda water, listening to a cute guy and his friend writing a song to an acoustic guitar. Now I’m typing on a bus, where there is free wif fi, with the drizzle and a Starbucks take-out.  I never really liked summer, but now I recon I do. This summer has already changed my life forever, and I know that it will continue to change.

I’m not performing in this, as I didn’t get selected into the cast, but The Idle Playthings are going to Edinburgh Fringe Festival! They are writing a blog about their adventures, http://ctrlaltsketch.wordpress.com/ so check it out, and if possible, donate a little bit of cash, as they need every penny they can get so they can get up to Fringe, and stay there for the duration of the festival. Every little helps :)

I also did my hair, so it is now a lovely rainbow colour! I decided on the radical makeover because I wanted to show off who I truly am inside, this crazy, multi-coloured soul who isn’t afraid of being out there any more. And it looks pretty wonderful, if I say so myself! I’m really proud of it, and intend to keep it this way for as long as possible.

Solstice was wonderful! We drank cocktails, played Cards Against Humanity, before heading out to the amphitheatre to show off talents. I performed some of my poetry, whilst my friend V performed some original songs and a stunning cover of ‘Wherever You Will Go’. After that, we went to the summer house by the lake, set up our altar, and burned paper with things we wanted to get rid of written on them. It felt really good to see the paper smolder and burn into ashes. Drinking mead, watching the stars was also amazing, and we headed back to the amphitheatre to watch the sunrise. All I can say is that I was so glad to have my closest friends with me to celebrate my freedom, and to welcome in a new season, a fresh start for everyone, especially me.

I’ve been on a few more dates, after the guy I was seeing turned out to be rubbish, and I’ve realised that maybe this way f finding love… Isn’t for me. It’s nice to take a few hours out of your day to meet a new person, be bought coffee and cocktails, talk sweet nothings until I’m blue in the face. But, that’s really not who I am, if I’m perfectly honest. I’m back to square one, and, you know what? I’m cool with that. For the first time in a long time, I’m comfortable being… Me. Me is a pretty alright person to be, to be defined by my talents, skills and personality, not for the person she has on her arm. Those days are over for me, and I’ve realised that I’m in no hurry at all to run back that way. I do like someone from back home, and I’m keeping my eye out, but what will be, will be.

Arthur is at a tiny bit of a block right now, as I’m juggling coursework with my personal situation, but hopefully I should get back into a proper routine with the novel soon. However, I’ve been writing an awful lot of poetry, mostly about matters of the heart. Maybe I’ll share a few with you all at some point or other.

But, in the meantime, I’ve started up another hobby. You see, I’m working on becoming a mixologist. Yes, a person specialising in the making of cocktails. I’ve started collecting the equipment, buying in the basic ingredients/spirits required, as well as cocktail recipe books. On top of that, I’ve started inventing my own cocktail recipes. At some point, when I perfect them, I’ll share them with you.

The last post I wrote turned out to be my 200th! A bit dark, I know, but that’s the way things go. I’ve had a lot of support from my friends and even people who I’ve never met before, and that means so much to me. I only hope that one day, young people won’t be afraid to turn round and say ‘no’ to an abusive partner. That when they cry for help, they’ll be listened to, and supported, without question. How can someone lie about being attacked, or controlled, manipulated or raped? How does that even work? Grrr, it makes me angry!

So, on that note, thanks for sticking around for 200 posts. Here’s to another 200!

Relationship Abuse: Why No Young Person Should Go Through It

(TW, Abusive relationships, rape, emotional abuse, physical abuse)

I’m going to be brutally honest.

I am a Survivor.

Why do I say this?

I’ve been in quite a few abusive relationships. And I’m only twenty years old.

I’m not the only girl in this position. So many young women under the age of 20 go through all sorts of domestic violence every year. I have friends who admit to being raped by boyfriends, emotionally manipulated by partners and their families, beaten by those who they thought would love and protect them. By telling my story, I hope that I can get more young people saved from violence, manipulation and abuse.

It all started when I was fifteen. I was young, vulnerable and impressionable. I met a guy at the new school I’d started at. We started dating. He wanted to touch my breasts, my crotch. I didn’t like it, but I’d heard that’s what girlfriends allow their boyfriends to do, so I gritted my teeth, and allowed it. Because I said yes’, it was assumed that I’d consented. Therefore it wouldn’t be seen as assault every time he touched me, pawed at me. I allowed him to tell me what makeup I was/wasn’t allowed to wear, how short my skirts were allowed to be. I wasn’t to eat too many sweets because ‘I could get fat’. Even the books I read had to be approved, as did the friends I spent time with. After a while, I turned seventeen. We’d ‘broken up’ because there was a weird thing with me bouncing between this guy and another one. But we went to prom together, and agreed to start ‘seeing’ each other. We’d meet up for secret ‘dates’ at the beach near where we both lived. Usually it would be fine, we’d kiss, hold hands, etc.

But one afternoon, it all changed.

We were in a field, walking his dog, holding hands, like any other young teenage couple, nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he spun me round. He grabbed me, and I could feel him grinding against me, thrusting his hand down my shirt, I could feel the erection through our clothes. I felt frightened, rigid to the spot, as he carried on snogging me, grinding, grinding.

I didn’t realise this was sexual assault until I turned nineteen, and started university.

I was seventeen, and got with the guy I’d been on-off with for a few years. I lost my virginity to him. I remember screaming in pain, as I wasn’t ready deep down, I remember being told that if I didn’t have sex, then he’d leave me to be alone. That I wasn’t even beautiful anyway.

I didn’t realise it was rape until today.

And I’m twenty.

I got with my ex fiancé not long into my first year of college.

I remember the night I got with him.

A lot of alcohol had been drunk. I had only recently turned eighteen, and didn’t have very much experience with alcohol before this point. A lot of people, his family, his friends, told me that he liked me, that I really should go out with him, etc. And, after all the pressure, and because I was drunk, I agreed, and we kissed as the clock struck midnight.

That kiss sealed my fate for the next two years of my life.

At first, I decided that I’d allow things to just take its course. Perhaps it would get better. Make the most out of a bad situation, right? But as time went on, things didn’t get much better.

It started when I wore shorts on a hot day to college. I remember it, because he said to me ‘Are they not too short?’. The time I first wore red lipstick ‘I don’t like it, it’s messy and you look bad in it’. Anything I wore had to pass a test of approval. He preferred me to buy clothes either he or his sister preferred.

And then his temper.

I never thought that I’d be in a relationship where I would fear for my own safety.

But the day he first slapped me, I feared for my life.

It sounds dramatic, but that’s the god-honest truth. We were having yet another row, when, without warning, he backhanded me across the face. I knew it wasn’t the usual playfighting that we used to enjoy. It wasn’t spoken of again, he apologised.

But the threats started.

Every time I dared to irritate him, he’d threaten to throw the nearest heavy thing at my head, or to throw me out of the top floor window. He’d tell me that he’d slap me, punch me in the head, if I carried on irritating him.

His family took control of most of my life, guising it as ‘support’ because of my autism. My finances, posessions, fashion, diet, everything was controlled, my alcohol intake was something to be commented about. The people I befriended had to be approved by being ‘friends’ with my ex as well, which made it hard to have friends outside of his preferences. And even when I was with those friends, he would attach himself to me, making sure it was made crystal clear that I was his, and no one else could ever have ‘dibs’ on me. I was no longer a person, more a possession. And it sucked.

I was only able to leave because…

I have a male best friend, who I fell in love with whilst at university. I’d talk with him often about my life, and the way I felt. He realised I was unhappy, and would give me a lot of advice. One morning, after a night watching the stars and falling asleep at his room, we slept together, and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I told my ex, and promptly left him as a result. He saved my life, and I am grateful. He’s now with one of my other best friends, and I’m glad for that, even though I still love him with all my being.

However, during the break up, my ex started to get even more abusive, messaging me accusing me of turning our ‘mutual’ friends against him, telling ‘mutual’ friends that I was a lying, manipulative and abusive bitch in order to make me out to be the bad person, and generally attempting to mess things up among my friendships. I’m lucky that my friends all saw right through him, and stuck by my side. During that time, he reminded me of things he told me during my relationship.

“You leave me, you’ll always be alone”  

“You’ll never find anyone else like me”

“You’re lucky to have me, because no one else will want you”

“Once you leave me, you won’t have a family anymore, we’ve given you everything.”

I’m lucky to have made sure that I had friends not involving him, or if they know him, that I was friends with them in their own right.

So, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with other young people.

Young people are not properly taught about abuse in relationships, in schools, or by parents/caregivers. People don’t know about dating abuse, and how it can affect young people. One of my friends was raped by her first boyfriend, and her friends and family still don’t believe that she was attacked. Another male friend of mine was sexually assaulted by a woman, and no one believed him, as men can’t get abused by women, surely?

It’s stupid, and needs to stop.

Young people need to be educated about relationship abuse, dating violence. You try to look up stats about abuse in teenage relationships, and there isn’t much in the way of reliable information.

This isn’t good enough. Young people deserve the same protection from abuse as adults do. I’m a disabled young adult, so I’m more vulnerable than others in my situation, as (like my ex and his family) my disability can be taken advantage of as an excuse for control and manipulation as much as my age and experience. So I dread to think what it could be like for someone who is just young and impressionable.

I’ve never told my story before online. I only hope, by doing so, that I can encourage someone to seek help, to leave an abusive relationship, or to even decide to think about taking the steps needed to get out. It’s hard when you’re being told that if you leave them, you’ll be completely alone. Which is bullshit, by the way. You have family, friends, me. I’ll always be a click away. That much I can promise you.

No one should ever go through abuse in relationships. No matter age, gender, race or sexuality. It’s time more young people spoke out about dating and relationship abuse. They need to know that there are more types of abuse than just being raped and slapped about. Sticks and stones may break bones, but words will always cut deeper than any other weapon.

Abuse is prevalent in our society, culture. It’s in our music, our films, even our magazines. The families of those young people who have survived still don’t believe them. It’s seen to be OK for someone to be emotionally manipulated by their partner, or to be raped, because it was in a relationship/dating scenario. It’s wrong. And has to stop.

I no longer see myself as a victim.

I am a survivor.

Liebster Award!

So, the lovely Katie at Page by Page (http://katewrites2.wordpress.com/) nominated me for an award!

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Here’s the rules!

  1. Each nominee must link back the person who nominated them.
  2. Answer the 10 questions which are given to you by the nominator.
  3. Nominate 10 other bloggers for this award who have less than 200 followers.
  4. Create 10 questions for your nominees to answer.
  5. Let the nominees know that they have been nominated by going to their blog and notifying them.

 

The 10 Questions…

  1. When and why did you decide to start blogging?

I started this blog last year, as I wanted to really start focusing on my future career as a writer, get an audience, and broadcast myself as a writer and general human. So far it’s been a wonderful experience!

2. Are you a structured writer (or reader) (do you set deadlines or goals for yourself, or do you just go with the flow)?

I kinda go with the flow, much to the annoyance of my university lecturers, who expect 2500 words of a portfolio by a certain date, but nothing I’ve written or wanted to write would be suitable for the task! Or, I just don’t feel like writing, that also annoys people! I find that my best work is done when I write of my own accord, rather than when someone is nagging at me to get to a deadline. I dread to think of my future editor/agent’s sanity!

 

3. What’s the number one book you’ve read that you wish you wrote and why?

I would say Wicked, by Gregory Maguire. It’s the kind of rebellious, satirical novel that really examines society and politics, and is a really clever book. Unfortunately it’s not my style, otherwise it would be amazing! I also wish I’d written the poem Howl by Allen Ginsburg, which ended up being the inspiration for Grey Hearts and Dancing Minds.

4. Is there a certain time of day you find writing (or reading) easier, or can you write (or read) day or night with pretty much the same ease (or difficulty ;) )?

Night time tends to be my best time for blogging and recreational reading, and day time tends to be good for drafting/university reading and work. Even then, I need to be highly motivated to work, and recently that’s been pretty tricky with everything that’s been going on with my personal life. But now I’m coming out the other side, I think I’m picking back up again :D

 

5. When and why did you start writing and/or reading?

I started reading properly when I was seven, as it was an escape. I could hide from the bullies who taunted me for being awkward, shy and quiet, and go on adventures that beat even my wildest dreams. Writing started when I was ten, and given a notebook as a diary. I also wrote a short story in English about the way I was born, all false, obviously, that I’d had a dramatic forceps birth, my mother had nearly bled out on the table, yada, yada. Turns out I was just a premature baby. Boo. But I got bitten by the writing bug, and haven’t really stopped since!

6. Have you ever written (or read) a character whose personality (or had a personality trait that) was similar to your own? If not, have you ever written (or read) one completely different and can you describe him or her?

Arthur Fitzwilliam, you are so bloody similar, we might as well be the same person! We’re both awkward, gangly and shy, although he is a lot quieter than I am. We want to prove ourselves to the world, but for different motives. Scarlett is the polar opposite to me, very outspoken, cheerful, confident in herself. It’s nice to write a character excited by life.

 

7. What is your favorite genre to write (or read) and why?

I enjoy reading historical fiction, but the research into writing it can be a pain in the neck! I’m branching out into comedy, which I’m enjoying a lot. Performance poetry is also something I enjoy working on!

 

8. What’s your least favorite book of all time and why?

I’ve had to read some pretty awful books in my lifetime… But I recon I’ll get lynched in a moment!

I couldn’t stand Of Mice and Men. I don’t get why a book about how a guy with severe learning difficulties getting killed because he’s too innocent in the mind to deal with the world is good! I’m sorry, but it actually really offended me as a person with mental disabilities! Rant over.

 

9. Where do you see yourself ten years from now reading or writing wise?

Ten years… I’ll be thirty! Gosh, that seems like forever away, but, like the past ten years, they’ll probably fly by, and I’ll be sat there, with ten hundred cats wondering where the heck that time went! In seriousness though, I would hope that I was published as a proper writer, with a couple of novels and poetry anthologies under my belt, as well as performing my poetry across the country/world. But, more likely, I’ll be sat at my laptop eating Doritos and screaming at misbehaving characters to do as they are blinking told!

10. Would you rather never be able to read or never be able to write again? [This one’s mean, I know, sorry ;)]

Yes, it is rather mean! You should be ashamed of yourself for asking that Katie! Would probably have to be never reading again. I couldn’t live without ink on my fingers, the constant need to buy notebooks… *sighs*

Technically this is where I’m meant to nominate 10 bloggers. But you’re all too blooming good for me to pick! I know, I’m copping out, but sleep…

So if you wanna answer my questions, go for it, just link to me at the bottom!

1. Choice of writing snack/drink?

2. What would be the soundtrack to your life?

3. Perfect weekend?

4. If you could go back, and change one part of your life, what would it be?

5. Best written piece?

6. Worst?

7. Who would play you in a movie of your life?

8. Classics or contemporary?

9. Where do you see yourself as a writer in 10 years time? (I liked this question, so it’s going in!)

10. What would you tell your 16 year old self?

 

So, this was fun!

 

It’s Looking Like Sunshine!

It’s been a weird few days. But those weird days needed to happen in order for things to get better. And they have gotten a lot better than I thought they would. Which is excellent.

I went back to Gosport for a few days, mainly to collect the remains of my life from my ex’s house, I love my friend B so much for helping me out, and letting me crash at hers whilst I mentally sorted myself out. He was, however, despite all agreements to be ‘civil’, was ever so rude. Alright, I’m not the saint of the situation, but I wanted to be an adult about it. And acting smug, practically throwing my boxes into my arms, followed by bitching that I’m ‘snarky’ due to refusing to sell my DSLR to him, then slamming the door in my face? That’s not very adult behaviour. Good riddance, I say!

So, I spent a few days in Hampshire, visited the Dockyard for an afternoon, went for drinks with people, saw my carer and foster mum and generally made the most of a soon to be rare occurrence. The weather was sublime, and it was wonderful to feel the sea breeze on my face.

I’ve really kicked off my dating life, and have been seeing someone, although not seriously, and I don’t think it’ll last for very much longer, if I’m honest. That’s fine by me, if I’m honest, as I’m more than ready to start looking for something a bit more than a bootie call.

My mother is coming up tomorrow to see me, and she’s bringing my older sister along. I haven’t seen them for ages, so it will be nice to catch up. I can’t wait to show them around the city that is now my home, my inspiration. Sounds corny, I know, but that’s how it is!

And then on Thursday it’s our Summer Solstice party! I’m googling celebration ideas, buying in mead, and generally getting rather excited! We’ll make dinner, play games, drink and be merry, before heading out with wine and watching the sun rise :) It will be lovely.

And, on that note, I’ll end. I still need to write a post about the award someone nominated me for last week, so I’ll get onto that tomorrow morning!

Summer of a Lifetime

Because I’ve come out of a relationship, I’ve realised that there are a lot of things I wasn’t able to do because I had a partner.

So this summer, I’ve decided that I want to have A Summer of a Lifetime.

My best friend and I were talking about ideas, such as going to Cardiff to check out the Doctor Who Experience, taking a selfie with a sheep, etc. Then I had a wonderful idea.

How about I ask the Internet what I ought to do this summer? I could write a blog separate to this one, with the list, ticking them off as I do so, and have posts with pictures as evidence of my escapades.

So, where do you wonderful people come in?

Give me ideas of things to do! If I like it, I’ll add it to my list, credit you when I write the post, stuff like that!

I’m already excited!