The Last Minute Dash

No matter how many hours there are before work, food is wolfed down last minute as you scramble to put your shoes on. Although you know what time the train leaves, you always find yourself doing a little run walk to get to the platform on time.  The last minute dash crops up countless times in our highly scheduled days; to reach the post office before it closes, to get back from lunch break, to quickly write a new post before work (that last one’s for me).

This is a habit I am currently trying to curb (she says sat in her pj’s whipping out a quick blog half an hour before work). It’s tough because time is precious and there is SO much to do, but not leaving enough time for the little things like having a cup of tea and preparing for the day can leave you in a bit of a mess, despite having ticked off the important tasks. Arriving at your destination feeling fresh, confident that you aren’t emulating an embarrassing Bridget Jones blusher moment, and that you don’t smell like you slept in a bin, is underrated.  My LMD (last minute dash) tends to go something like this; take a bite of toast while tying shoe laces, grab make up bag for last minute application in car (not whilst driving though, don’t arrest me), hunt down front door keys (they are never where I think I leave them) and compulsively check that all of the household appliances are off (there’s a bit of OCD in all of us). My dad’s LMD tends to be; wake up (on couch still wearing yesterday’s suit), use one product to both moisturise face and style hair, and grab body spray and coffee to humanise himself on the way to work.

So the next time you crack out that to do list to plan your day, don’t forget to give yourself time to do the little things. That extra 10 minutes will see you arriving at work punctual and on your boss’s nice not naughty list, and will prevent any last minute mascara slip ups from frantically oomphing your lashes in the rear view mirror of your car when you arrive. Allocate yourself some chill time and eliminate that last minute dash.

Clueless!

Feeling more clueless than Alicia Silverstone as Cher Horowitz? Like someone must be using you as a participant in a psychological study because NOTHING makes sense? We all have moments in life when we are faced with impossible tasks, nonsensical assignments and mind boggling decisions. So how do we deal with them?

It's just the third day of my editorial work placement at the local paper (which I'm loving by the way!) and I'm already following leads, writing articles and proof reading pages before they go to print. However, diving head first into a sea of technical jargon I feel like a baby learning how to talk. Being fresh to the world of journalism I've already had my share of making it up as you go along and nodding enthusiastically at tasks I had no idea how to tackle. One thing I've discovered is that with confidence and self belief, the impossible is possible.

Whatever the task or decision, tell yourself ' I CAN do this!' (you may get a few funny looks for saying this aloud so yes, the voice in your head option will do). Stick on a smile, and even if you feel like a monkey with a rubix cube, just have a go and see how you get on.  Don't just close your eyes and hope for the best, open them and have a little faith. Chances are you will surprise yourself (monkeys are actually quite intelligent). And if things are just too much to tackle alone, don't be afraid to ask for some tips or advice; there's no point in wandering aimlessly in the dark when someone can turn the lights on!

Moving To The City

Warm sunshine beating down in the garden, birds singing, lazy river flowing, trees, animals and flowers galore. But not for much longer. In two weeks time I make the move into the big smoke, I'll actually be IN London this time. When people ask me where I live my answer won't be the usual 'oh near London, just forty minutes outside' (which is code for small, countryside village absolutely nothing like London but as a Northerner the closest I've ever lived).

City or country? Although I'm eager to make the swap, I'm curious to know..when you compare the two, which one comes out on top? I had reservations about country living to begin with; being awoken by horny ducks mating outside my window at half six in the morning did not sell it to me. However sitting on the balcony with a glass (or 3) of wine, watching the sun set over the fields is truly magical. With the weather so beautiful at the moment I can't help feeling like the countryside is acting like a bitter ex rubbing it in my face 'you idiot, you're leaving me? Well check out how spectacular I am!' 

Yes life in the country is beautiful, relaxing, idyllic, but here are some of the things I wont miss.. Getting a pizza craving at 10pm and discovering that not all ASDAs are 24 hour!? Going shopping in town and being limited to new look and super drug. Everything being at least a ten minute drive away (which means far too many sober nights out). Local entertainment being the obliterated drunks who do a round of the pubs dishing out painfully bad chat up lines like 'Do you believe in love at first sight or shall I walk by again?' (not as funny the third time around).

Despite this I can't help but love living in the countryside and have to recommend you give it a go sometime. Can I really survive in the city with the only tweeting being that of the nearest smart phone? Watch this space...

Restrained splurging

Sometimes there is no better solution than to throw caution to the wind (or money at the retailers) and splurge. Sometimes those shoes just have to be bought, that show needs you in it's audience, and that espresso martini needs a willing body to intoxicate.

When the money worries of attempting to finance life in London on a waitress's wage got too much to solve, the only answer was to grab my sister (aka fellow impulsive sporadic spender) and let go of some money worries by letting go of some money.

Disbelievers, don't mock it until you've tried it. While I wouldn't recommend splurging on Chanel and Mulberry (guaranteed credit card hangover the day after), a little luxury here and there certainly numbs the depression of realising that you're way over your overdraft. Just as contradictory as 'sweet sorrow', 'restrained splurging' is life's beautiful oxymoron. Getting out of the house for a coffee and cake may not seem the best idea when your bank account is so painfully anorexic, but it is guaranteed to brighten your mood. 

Be it retail therapy, a trip to the cinema (which I'm afraid is considered a luxury with London's extortionate prices) or that quaint cafe you always wanted to try, grab a pick me up! Let go of your sensible side and have a day free from your wise mother's warnings of consequence. What's life without a little splurge!?

I'm afraid you need experience for that experience!

After years of living and breathing tests, fuelled with the firm belief that education is the key to success, now that we have wrapped up our SATs, GCSEs, AS levels, A levels, End of Year exams, Mocks and Degrees, the job market has changed its mind..'erm, actually we don't care about your degree, experience is the new must have'.  Since when is the job market as fickle as fashion? 

It would appear that us twenty somethings are the unlucky generation who endured the tests obsession and education overload, and then graduated in the pit of the recession. Why do we have no experience? Maybe it was a little hard to fit in midst the endless exams and part time jobs we needed to fund our hooch jackets and new Nokia 3310s. We were sold degrees with the assurance that they guaranteed you a job, yet now they are so common place the 'essentials' bullet point 'Candidate must have a degree' reads as unimpressive as 'Candidate must be able to speak'. When applying for a job in a bar or cafe it's detrimental to your success; 'degree' reads as 'WARNING this person will leave you as soon as humanly possible'. Can I get a refund on that degree because it definitely doesn't do what it said on the tin.

Negativity aside, university is an incredible life experience and I still believe in the value of education. But a word of advice for employers out there; give us twenty somethings a chance. Remember we still worked for three, four, five years for that degree. Don't bin that CV and assume that lack of experience means lack of skill. Plenty of us are trying to get our hands on some experience, but apparently you need experience to get work experience nowadays!

Run Away!

So, I'm going public with some personal info ... I'm training to run a half marathon. I'm telling you this so that I can't back out of it, which is becoming an increasingly tempting idea (I'm not a quitter, I've just come to my senses!). After watching my boyfriend complete a triathlon in 2011, I told him how proud of him I was and (foolishly) suggested, ' hey maybe someday I could give it a go?'  (not expecting to be held accountable for my throw away comment). Two years later, after 15 months of indulging on Asian noodles and cheap beer, and in what can only be described as the biggest slump of my fitness ever, I am signed up to the 'Run to the beat' half marathon. Gulp!

My first run really can't be described as a run at all, more a steady jog...or a dad run, which is really just an exaggerated walk. I *ahem* ran along the canal, fuchsia faced and hair slicked back with what looked like wet look gel (actually a pool of sweat). I did all of the classics; striding along full pelt with a fake smile plastered across my face when a dog walker strolled by, forcing a cheery "hello!" and collapsing when they were finally out of sight.  

The biggest fear of a non runner braving a run has to be running into someone you know (pun totally intended). Running into your ex would of course be the worst. Nobody wants to  bump into an ex when they are an unfortunate shade of beetroot, wearing ugly ill fitting, thigh enhancing Lycra sweat pans and an old Nike hoodie. Thankfully this is something I have managed to avoid (touch wood!).

Anyway, the reason for broadcasting this is to encourage you to get out there and do it. Swim, gym, cycle, run. Get active and get that serotonin flowing! Even if it's just fifteen minutes around the block, get your heart pumping and get some fresh air. You know you'll feel better for doing it!

Emotions are contagious!

Emotions are contagious; worries are transferred from daughter to mother, giggling is infectious and one person's negativity can ruin a whole evening. The phrase 'I feel your pain' is often very true; if someone upsets my sister, they upset me too, and I know it's the same for my mum so god knows how she coped with two hormonal monsters during our teens (total mum respect).  Watching a sad film, whilst cathartic, really doesn't make you feel any happier. Whereas a romantic comedy is bound to turn that frown upside down (no, 'Marley and me' does not come under the 'romcom' genre).

A couple of days ago I contracted happiness when I jumped into my boyfriend's cloud nine success bubble. He was offered a fantastic job: exciting, great team of people and impressive starting salary. His feelings of elation, relief to finally launch his career, and joy at being able to chill out in his free time rather than job hunt, seeped through my skin. So much so that I had to prize the celebratory bubbly out of my hand and remind myself that I'm not the one who bagged the dream job (yet!!). I didn't experience an ounce of job envy (ok, maybe a tiny bit on my way to complete a hectic split shift at the pub). More than anything I was proud, excited, and soaking up his happiness like a dry sponge.

Although surrounding yourself with purely upbeat, positive people, is probably an unreachable goal, do make sure you spend some time with the people who can make you smile and feel like the world is your oyster. Try not to get dragged down by other people's negativity. Channel your inner Mr Cheerful and when you pass someone in the street, offer them a cheery grin; smiles are as contagious as yawns! (warning, this may not work on the streets of London)

The Power of Sleep

Ignore the people who say 'you get enough sleep when you're dead'. They are wrong. If you hadn't heard that phrase before now, pretend I didn't say it because it's ridiculous. Sleep should be appreciated, savoured, and given the time it deserves, 6 hours is just not enough!

Today, with the power of 8 hours sleep I have been transformed from a grouchy, migraine suffering, puffy eyed, runny nosed mess, into a functioning human being again. Yesterday's heavy lidded, heavy hearted state of misery has been slept off (mum breathes a sigh of relief - no teary skype calls today!). Today I woke up fresh at 7am, on my own, without moaning or the incentive of a cup of tea in bed (yes, my boyfriend spoils me). Half of you will think that getting up at 7am for no reason is madness, and the other half of you will label me a lazy slob for having a 7am lie in, but for me this is progress. I'm kicking the late to bed late to rise habit, investing in some beauty sleep (it worked for princess Aurora), and remembering that there are two 7 o'clocks in the day. It would seem I have reached the age where going to bed at 9pm is totally acceptable, encouraged even.

Sleep is not a symptom of caffeine deprivation. Don't deprive yourself of those forty winks because you're too busy, because sleep is what keeps you going. Get your eight hours and make sure at least one is before midnight as I swear that makes all the difference. Not sure if sleep is all that important? Sleep on it and I'm sure you'll see sense in the morning.

Just keep going

The most useful, vague but valuable advice there is. When you're panting, sweltering and fantasising about collapsing into a pool of icy water half way through your run. When you have another two thousand words to dream up to finish your mind numbing, tedious essay on French politics. When you've been dieting for six weeks but have yet to loose that stubborn stone which hugs your hips like a needy child not letting go. It can be the most annoying advice to hear; of course you should keep going, but you just don't flaming want to! 

Today I hit a brick wall (metaphorically of course), I was moaning about work,fed up of internship hunting, and had a severe case of writers block.  Bad combination. All I wanted to do was to spend the morning lazing in the sun (which I continue to be amazed is still here and hasn't gone into hiding again). I compromised and took my work outside with me. In true English fashion I developed strawberry pink shoulders and wonky T-shirt tan lines. Yet somehow, between intermittent groans and sipping on the most delightful coconut bounty smoothie I've ever tasted, I managed to finish my work and tick off my never ending to do list. 

I'll keep this one short and sweet so you can get on with your own to do list (which I'm almost certain you have).  Whenever you feel like giving up, remind yourself of the reasons why you're doing whatever you're doing. Re motivate yourself; visualise yourself at the finish line, handing in your essay, a trim size 10.  If you're writing like me, don't over think it (something I'm totally guilty of)! Most of all just keep going... And if you happen to venture to Biggleswade (which is probably never going to happen) try a bounty coconut milkshake, they're amazing!

Leave your phone at home

Remember when there was only one computer at home and you had to sacrifice the telephone to use it? Remember when you rang people from your home phone, arranged to meet them, and just had to be patient when they were late?  My cousins wont, they were born into the age of technology, they grew up with mobile phones for toys, and they never experienced that awful dial up noise of the internet getting warmed up. But you remember it right?

Nowadays having no tablet makes you behind the times, having no computer makes people question how you continue your day to day life, and having no mobile makes people question your sanity. 

I'm sat here with my iPad in lap, phone in pocket, and mac by my side, exasperating at how over faced with technology I am. It's madness to think that fourteen years ago I would have had none of the above. In fact I would have to wait a whole year until I would be presented with my first, extendable aerial, giant plastic button, kilogram brick of a phone. That trusty Motorola hunk would bulge through my school blazer pocket, awkward and indiscreet, but I loved it! And it seems my love affair with technology has continued to develop.  When I first got my iPad i took it everywhere; to the shops, the gym, the bathroom (true separation anxiety). My sister's suggestion to leave it in the car when we went shopping made me physically sick. This is how I know I'll be a hideously protective mother (I apologise in advance to my future childminders and yet to be conceived children). 

So upon highlighting the difference, I began to wonder, is this surge of technology good or bad? We can now video call family and friends on the other side of the world, share photos, articles and videos at the click of a button, we can even promote ourselves to stardom uploading videos to Youtube. Of course technology is incredible, but it also makes us distracted and dependable.  This was exemplified perfectly yesterday when I failed to navigate my way to a nearby village because my Google maps lost signal, despite having the road signs right in front of me. I noticed how our phones and gadgets have us staring at screens instead of observing the world around us. 

When did my notepad become an app rather than a pad of paper? When did a tablet stop being a paracetamol? When did apple and blackberry become more associated with phones than pies? The world is changing so quickly it's hard to keep up, just remember to look up from your screens every now and then and take a look at the world we constantly instagram (It's pretty amazing even without Brannan and Valencia settings)! Enjoy the thrill of technology, but every now and then have a break from candy crush and go take a walk outside, and leave your phone at home.

The trouble with being a people pleaser- Learn how to say NO

It’s a lovely quality, to put others first, but being a loyal people pleaser can sometimes be detrimental to your own well being. There is a fine line between being a lovely, selfless person, and sacrificing your own happiness to succumb to the needs of others. Do you hate the NO word? Perhaps it’s time to learn how to be a bit selfish from time to time.

My fear of the NO word got so ridiculous that at one stage when my friend’s dad asked if I wanted a slice of cake I said ‘erm, I’m ok thank you’.  He raised an eyebrow; ‘so what does that mean..yes or no?’.  It was at that point that I realised how much I struggled to say it. I don’t know why, but ‘no’ felt like a rejection (which is ridiculous as I’m sure he would have been grateful for me not snaffling his cake).

So do you people please too much? There is a mountain of work to complete but your colleague has troubles at home so you tackle it alone. You’re shattered after a hard core week of work, household chores, and trips to the doctors but you said you would drive two hours to meet your friend (and hate it when people bail), so you sacrifice your day off to help her babysit. You are an angel, and we love you, but remember that you matter too.

Sure, help out colleagues, friends, family, I’m all for going the extra mile to make people smile, but include yourself as one of those people. If you’re getting stressed with taking on the extra load, tell someone, and let someone else please you for a while (insert rude joke here). Give yourself a break, and when you’re asked ‘do you mind doing...’ do not feel bad about saying no. If you desperately want a night in to recuperate instead of filling in for the missing player in your friend’s football team, just say no and let them nag someone else (trust me you’re not the only people pleaser in their phone book). The thing is, people say no to you all the time, sure sometimes it really annoys you, but most of the time you hardly notice, you just accept it and move on. So if your crumbling under the weight of your angel people pleasing wings, take them off a while and be your own guardian angel, remember you’re only human.

Focus on the positives

Well, I’ve had a few pretty hectic days; I bought a car, moved into my own flat, and got a new job. All in less than a week! Unfortunately my job has me waiting on pompous old men and spoilt, ketchup smeared children rather than waiting on my next article being published, but hey, money doesn’t grow on trees. While I’m still waiting for my lucky break, at least I have my own space and a get-away car should I feel too trapped in the small town life of Biggleswade (cue rev of the engine). 

I must point out, I am writing this half way through a bottle of red wine, sat on my balcony overlooking a beautifully picturesque river, and this is why my outlook on life is as rosy as my alcohol flushed cheeks. Earlier on I wasn’t feeling quite as gleeful.

Today was the first day of my new job. Nervous, and excited at the prospect of earning some much needed money, I struggled to eat breakfast. I styled my hair and put some make up on (knowing this kind of effort wouldn’t last the week), and drove around the corner to the pub. Confident with my abilities as a waitress, I wasn’t so much worried about the job itself, but the fact that I was the new girl and that I was at least 6 years older than all of the other waitresses. I couldn’t help feeling like that awkward mature student in university; trying to blend in with the youngsters and failing miserably. Feigning interest in fuchsia pink acrylic nails I had some impressively mind numbing conversations which, thank god, were cut short by the ringing of the bell calling for service in the kitchen. After a day of serving food and wearing a super glued smile, I collapsed onto my bed and buried my head in the pillow (before quickly removing the pillow for fear of my greasy, food reeking face making it smell and inducing work related dreams). 

I groaned (alone and self pitying) what am I doing, I don’t want to do this, I should be writing, creating, dreaming! And then I reminded myself that I’m not rich and I’m not living in a fairytale. The only way to get past feeling like a failing pensioner at 24 was to focus on the positives. Sure the pay is shocking, but it’s a whole 20p above minimum wage!! Ok, so that’s a bad example. What I am currently reminding myself of, is that working this crappy job is  keeping me motivated to work hard for what I want;  if I was content with my job I may not be as driven to make my dreams come true. Positives: I am earning money, proving that I am a grafter, and I am still on my way to becoming the successful writer I envisage myself to be. So when you feel like life is bullying you, stay strong and focus on the good bits; remind yourself of all the wonderful things you take for granted. Your family, your friends, the fact that you’re healthy. Then if you’re feeling really determined, try to turn the negatives into positives too; I may no longer be a care free high schooler like my work colleges, but I’m now at an age where I don’t need half a litre of vodka to embarrass myself on the dance floor (I’ll do it sober).  

Food envy

And so it arrives, that sizzling stirfry, that succulent leg of lamb, that gooey chocolate pudding with creamy vanilla ice cream. The waiter has a little grin at everybodys 'oo look at that!' reaction, proudly carrying the spectacular dish as if he had anything to do with how good it will taste. It arrives, looking and smelling sensational, and it is put down on the placemat opposite you. As you stare down at your comparatively average looking dish which was smuggled in under your nose, you kick yourself for having changed your mind last minute. Your mouth salivates as you imagine feasting on that far superior dish, and the child in your head whines 'I want one!!'.. I call this food envy.

On Tuesday I went for a 'moving out of your boyfriend's parent's house and growing up' meal with (as you may guess) my boyfriend and his parents. We went to a wonderfully quaint little pub in the nearby countryside. When the menu arrived I studied it meticulously knowing that as I wasn't with my sister I couldn't get away with spending 20 minutes deciding what to eat (hey, these are important decisions!) . Feeling the pressure (such a first world problem), I opted for duck with an orange glaze on sweet potato (it was a posh pub). My decision was made with the following guidelines in mind  1.) It's not something I would cook at home. 2.) It's more exciting than the rest of the menu. 3.) When you go out for a meal you're allowed to choose fatty duck over a salad. 
Everybody else went for a classic pub grub style sausage and mash or steak pie, and when they arrived they were huge plates of home cooked bliss. Mine was not. 

My tough duck with its layer of soggy fat was as disappointing as it sounds. To make it worse I did the worst thing you can do in such a situation; I asked to try my boyfriend's dish. Never do this! Even if you are quite enjoying your meal,  trying the superior dish will always make yours taste like gruel in comparison. So here is my advice: When ordering against the clock, or in a place where you can't recite the menu off by heart, stick to the basics, you can't go too wrong with fish and chips (unless your vegetarian). 

Travelling duo- will it make or break you?

Before setting off on my Australian/ South East Asian adventure with my boyfriend, I was given some seemingly wise words of wisdom: travelling with your partner will either make or break you. Unsure of what to do with this non advice, I must admit I was a little on edge at both the idea of returning from my trip engaged (made), or with a broken heart and a few more notches on the bedpost (broken..the relationship not the bedpost). 

Absorbing the idea as gospel and embarking on my trip of a lifetime, I couldn't ignore that faint niggling feeling that sooner or later my relationship was going to turn into a soap opera. This did not happen. In reality, yes there were times of 'breakage', mainly as a result of the excruciating 28 hour bus journeys, tired, incredibly tetchy and desperately in need of a toothbrush (arguing becomes a form of entertainment and halitosis is a major passion killer.)  But then came the 'making up', watching the sun set in a brilliant blaze of tangerine and magenta breeds romance and unashamed PDA. 

Travelling will affect your relationship, but so will starting a new job or going on a diet. Don't worry that travelling will push your relationship to the edge, it will, but if a relationship is meant to last, it will. Don't expect that standing the test of travel puts a ring on your finger (just because he likes it does not mean he will put a ring on it), life will change a lot when your plane lands back on reality. When the blazing sunshine and sumptuous street food are replaced by grey clouds and Gregg's pies, you will wonder what on earth you are doing with your life. But if your relationship makes it back in one piece give yourself a pat on the back and buckle up for life's next roller coaster.

Do opposites attract?

You have that ideal person in your head...A dark, mysterious Italian? A blonde Aussie surfer? You may day dream of that Latino lover, but chances are you won't end up with them. I'm not being negative, I'm saying that the person who we think is our ideal other half tends not to be. 

When I was eight I had a massive crush on Stephen Gately; Boyzone posters wallpapered my walls and 'Key to my Life' blared from the stereo (much to the disappointment of my classical music loving father). My sister, friend and I used to argue about who was the most worthy of being Stephen's wife, the result of which was based on who had done the most research reading Boyzone annuals. It came as a bit of a shock when in 1999 he came out of the closet, and I was informed that my dream guy was dreaming of guys. Yes I know I was a child and I also wanted to marry Ashton Kutcher and Josh Hartnett, but you see where I'm coming from; our perfect person often isn't as perfect for us as we think.

But how about your ideal half being your opposite? Going for a leisurely stroll with my boyfriend I was surprised when he referred to us as opposites; I had always thought the fact that we were so similar had made us such good friends, and that was the key to our relationship. So I asked him to elaborate. He responded by telling me that I am a chatter, I'm from a family of talkers who (as the name would suggest) fill any silence with questions, a spontaneous outburst of song, or a verbalised train of thought (or verbal diarrhoea as he so nicely put it). He, on the other hand, is very chilled out and, not quiet ,but content with a bit of silence . I protested that I enjoy silence from time to time and I don't always ask questions.  So he took me back to earlier that day when he was half way through getting dressed and I asked the 'what are you thinking?' question. He replied '..erm, nothing'. I was confused...'what do you mean, you have to have been thinking something' (isn't everyone's mind a constant whir of activity? My mind is a breeding ground for the deep and meaningful). Exasperated he replied 'ok, well I guess I was thinking..hmmm which socks shall I wear today?'. I found it very hard to continue that conversation. 

And so I realised yes, I do fill silences with pointless questions. I exaggerate while he dumbs things down. I'm an attention seeker while he.. Isn't.  For many things we are quite opposite, but actually that's why we work.  He is the perfect antidote to my 'everything's a drama' reaction to life. Learn from this; opposites do attract and can sometimes be a great combination. Be thankful that your partner isn't your carbon copy, their OCD probably does your messy house wonders. Or if you're looking for love, try somewhere you wouldn't usually go, and rub out the boundaries of your 'type'. Don't be disheartened if you don't end up with Mr right or your girl next door, your perfect person may just be living opposite. 

Have a good laugh

Unexplainably  moody,irritable and argumentative? We've all been there at some point, when no matter what you try, you can't seem to shift that depressive fog obscuring your vision. This was me recently; I felt like a dementor had sucked all of the happines from my soul (if you hadn't already noticed, yes I do have a tendency to overdramatise). The troubles occupying my mind felt like a straight jacket  infested with fleas, inescapable and irritating. All day I tried to shift it, reading, exercising and eating chocolate (which as we all know is ordinarily a cure all).

 It wasn't until later in the evening that my cure eventually revealed itself in the form of Alan Carr. Opening his show with a stream of inappropriate jokes it took all but 5 minutes to dig me out of my suffocating  pile of gloom and let me breath again, or rather near choke on my own laughter and snort all over my boyfriend (something which he found highly attractive). I followed Alan with a dose of Michael McIntyre and after an hour of his self deprecating jokes I was on cloud nine.

 

Comedy was my saviour. It reminded me of the importance of laughing at yourself; don't take yourself too seriously and you'll be less hard on yourself when things go wrong. Give yourself a parental telling off and 'think of all those poor kids in Africa', we all hate that overused phrase but the heart of it rings true; there are people out there with far worse problems. Things are never as bad as they seem! It also reminded me how a bit of hearty chortling can totally transform your mood. So next time you feel glum and you can't kick yourself out of it, prescribe yourself some comedy because laughter really is the best medicine!