Oh no.

I popped out my bedroom for a second to go and make some tea.




When I returned, I realised what I had become.

I should probably start hanging out with kids my own age.

I don't do no washing up

The new Ikea advert - I'm a fan. It's like what I hoped would happen, adverts finally aimed at me.



I did a bit of research and this was a song from the eighties - identical in fact. This leads me to believe some guy/girl was sat listening to this, after finishing her degree in some ldn uni and getting a super cool job straight away, and thought hey what a great idea.



This trail of thought kind of ruined this for me.

I am quite jealous of such people, I had hoped that they would all sort of lack talent in reality.

In conclusion, although I enjoyed this advert initially, the feeling lingered. Unfortunately then it went on to make me feel a bit shitty about my own life, and finally it dawned on my that I couldn't even afford an Ikea kitchen anyway. I don't think this is the effect adverts are supposed to have on the viewer. Further, I have decided that I don't like being at an age where more and more adverts may awaken such feelings of discontent.

Which is why I shall just read (about times of austerity).

My miniature knitwear range

The collection was finally ready.

Scuffed boots

I have decided to listen to 90's lo-fi for a week to see what happens. I'm hoping it will influence my style as I have always had difficulties sticking to muted colour tones.



Pavement, particularly in this picture, shall be my style inspiration. I shall try and find graffiti-ed places to hang out

Come find me if you like misery and can hear the constant deflation of your sole.

la la

Chewing my finger tastes like the dentist and my life sucks, but this makes me feel better.

My first steps...

...to becoming a trendy twenty something Brighton-esque knitting WI neo-housewife.

I made a carrot cake as my first step. It was horrible - chewy and far too orange and flat.

My second hurdle was trying to find wool to begin my knitting. It turns out that it is most likely the wool that is the difficult item to find in a haystack, I came across the needles quite easily. Still have no knitted items as yet, but have plenty of cardigan ambition.

Despite these troubles however, I was able to impress my mum with a simple Victoria sponge. It was tasty, but I didn't get the smug feeling I was hoping for.



Instead, I felt a bit like if I actually had anything better to do, I wouldn't be sat eating cake with my mum contemplating when to watch When Harry Met Sally.

In conclusion, I have found that whilst this role may not suit me, my increasing boredom and frustration with the suffocatingly mundane lifestyle I lead whilst I'm back home is sure to help me achieve my goals, in true 1950's housewife style.

RIPTV

I knew this would always happen, I experienced it in Liverpool many months previously but the emotional attachment (or possibly just inconvenience) was never there for me to prepare myself. Now I feel lost, confused. Finally empathetic towards the people they aimed the really slow, overly calm and simple digital switchover adverts at, all that time ago.



They forgot about me though. I have a portable television suspended inches off my ceiling by a large metal bracket. How does a girl like me get a digital box for that kind of set up?

Do I take it off the bracket and place it slovenly on my desk?

Risk holes in my wardrobe where it once hung firm?

If I knew this would always happen, why does it upset me so?

It's the sad flicker of no signal, and the realisation that money needs to be spent.

But more than that, never again will I have the luxury of a ad-break game of Tetris thanks to my old skool tv with it's in built retro gaming remote.