I’m an autumn girl at heart to be perfectly honest. I’d much prefer to be in a month that requires boots and a good hat than to be spending each day avoiding getting too much flesh out but at the same time needing to wear minimal clothing on account of being too bloody warm. But even so, swapping the calendar to August only to realise that we’re actually a good week into September was a tragic moment in life.

Seriously, where did August go? In my diary it says it definitely happened, but in my head all I see are lots of train journeys, and the memory of exceptionally tired (read painful) feet. It’s official, I’ve turned into a scary adult lady with no social life and the need for orthopedic footwear.

Remember that A capella group I ramble on about sometimes? Well, this is us singing a couple of medleys..

So hi there Internetland. It’s been a while. Mostly my fault, okay totally my fault. But who’d have guessed that there would be a point in my life where enough was going on to make procrastination unnecessary? Crazy. Totally crazy.

Basically exams happened. That was fairly lame. And then I turned 20. That was pretty awesome. Aside from the panic about suddenly being old and almost having responsibilities and a job and a family and real-life and all that malarkey. Once the panic was over I got to dress as a dinosaur. And that was beautiful..

RAWR.

Because yes. Being a dinosaur is the obvious choice for a newly turned 20 year old.

Then I went traipsing across Europe on a 24 hour coach ride. I know. *What* was I thinking.. Well, I actually just wanted to sing. Basically, the show choir went on tour to Italy with the University Big Band. Anyway, we ended up half way up a mountain near Lake Garda – so beautiful.. Had a few nights singing, few days chilling in the sun. It was pretty ace. I genuinely had no idea Italy was so beautiful. Lame, but true.

The one thing that greatly upset me was the way that Verona has been plagued with touristy gimmicks for Romeo and Juliet. Sorry to break it to you guys, but they WERE NOT REAL PEOPLE. Therefore spending stupid amounts of money to see each of their houses, their balcony and Juliet’s tomb (?!) = a silly plan. Just saying.

I’d forgotten how very much I love board games. They remind me of friday nights living on campus last year. (Yes, we were a massively cool house..) And of those years, back in the day, when there were no responsibilities and no worries.

It’s been a tense 5 weeks. A tense 5 weeks that have seen tears and tantrums and blood and performances and a&e waiting rooms and not a lot of sleep but a hell of a lot of words. It’s nice to know those 5 weeks are over. Finally. Although it is now strange.. Waking up to the realisation that you have nowhere to be. Genuinely, there is no requirement for you to even leave the house. Hence the fact that I’m still in pyjamas, let’s be honest..

There’s something really refreshing though about knowing that despite the fact that I’m probably going to be even more stressed next year, even more so than your average third year student, it’ll be my own doing. And for something that I’m massively excited about. And that makes it okay.. Y’know?

I may possibly have face-planted the pavement last night. Fell out of my shoe and met the floor with various body parts. It was painful. And I now have a beautifully purple hip, a fairly mauve knee, scraped arms, and a hole in the leather jacket.. Massive fail on my part. Massive.

I then took a rehearsal today. Clutching coffee and sporting last night’s makeup. Yep, I was *that* classy girl on the bus. The one with bed hair and a slept-in jumper..

And finally I ended up in A&E. Actually the reason I ended up at the hospital isn’t all that interesting, and I felt like a massive fraud in comparison with the guy that had been hit by a car, the girl with appendicitis, and the man that had trapped his hand in an electronic dumbwaiter. Believe me, I felt massively lame sat next to them..

The wait was almost worth it when my foot was bandaged up by cute-doctor-”I’m-Owen-by-the-way”, who then proceeded to throw plaster tape at me with a “shh, they’ll never know”. Charming cute-doctor-Owen. Also have massive love for the housemates who came for a road trip to keep me company and brought inappropriate-for-the-hospital snacks. Bless their little hearts.

I do however feel it necessary to question the hospital on their inappropriate nature of road signs..

Seems a tad insensitive really..

Anyway, I’m in this choir. And we sing occasionally. Last week was no exception, (actually that’s a lie, it was a massive exception because we actually got up on stage in pretty dresses – and suits) we sang our little hearts out. And we’re on the internet. It’s crazy.

Check it.. It’s fairly unexciting to begin with, but watch from 7.55 and we’ll embrace you with our vocal chords. Or something.

I’m the one in the really ridiculous (albeit insanely beautiful) shoes.

Now however? Oh god, I deserve some serious gold stars for my nice-ness..

It’s been a stressful week. Week and a half. And it’ll no doubt be an even tougher 7 days this coming week. Exhaustion is familiar. Emotions are high. Food is a thing of the past. And tension is the new laugh. It’s the run up to our practical exam, needless to say, everyone is ready to snap.. And yet I’m finding tact, and the ability to remain calm and ‘nice’, is the toughest challenge.

There’s something remarkably intimate about theatre, especially as one of the performers: you spend such a large quantity of time with one another, and see each other at their best and worst moments. This is the same for a drama degree, to some extent. There is so much riding on us working as a group to create an incredible piece of work, and it can therefore, obviously, be stressful when people aren’t working to the same level or effort.

Now don’t get me wrong, our entire group is fab. All talented, all lovely, and all work exceedingly well together – which is actually surprising, I’d predicted more fireworks in that department. But it’s tough at this stage when everyone is exhausted, and stressed, and little things become massive issues. It’s at this point that remaining happy and calm and nice is essential..

I was directed to this site the other day, my housemate felt I could do with a smile, and it seems so fittingly perfect for what I’m trying to say. Little things, in all their glory, are what make each day special. I think it’s important to remember that, even when you’re ready to throw scalding coffee at someone, it’s nice to be nice..

Have a biscuit.

Put it this way, I’ve been home for a fortnight. It doesn’t feel that way. Not in the slightest. And yet being home I’ve already discovered some brilliant (and not-so-brilliant) things about myself..

1. I still bake awesome cakes. Not that I doubted this, but y’know, when you usually make plain and simple fairy cakes it’s nice to branch out occasionally. So yes. The mocha cupcakes I’ve spent the entire evening concocting? Beautiful. If I do say so myself..

2. I would rather read for pleasure than work. Honest. Hence the fact that I ploughed through the 4 or 5 books put aside for ‘enjoyment’, and I’ve still only achieved 20-odd pages of Ulysses. It’s an absolute hoot.

3. Spotify is becoming the new facebook. In my life at least. I without a doubt spend 6 times as much time surfing through bands I’ve never heard before and creating new playlists than I do on that beauty of a book of face. Which is weird. Very weird. Not in a bad way though, it does after all lead on to..

4. ..The fact that talking about music is becoming a substitute for sleep. I still have disastrous sleep patterns, but at least now I spend time contemplating soulful lyrics and arguing about the beauty of French pop.

5. I like gin. In small doses. But..

6..I still talk too much when drunk. And tell too much. I’m not loud. I’m not lairy. But I do tend to talk. Bugger.

7. Despite owning at least 4 pairs already, when shoe shopping I still resort to converse. They’re low-tops, which is y’know a change, but still.. I should probably branch out at some point.

8. I hate Oxford on a Saturday. Regardless of the sun.

9. I drink less caffeine when I’m at home. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s more of a Brighton thing. Maybe I don’t wake up early enough to warrant it in Oxford. But yeah, it’s unusual..

10. My movie knowledge is still one of the worst things about me. STILL. Despite the fact that I’m a student and do nothing with my time. I still have the worst knowledge about films – classic ones at least. Ask me about Harry Potter, or any Audrey Hepburn film, and I’m your girl. But those must-see-before-you-die classics? Nuh-uh. Clueless.

11. It is still possible to waste an entire day watching tv re-runs. Admittedly it’s now more likely to be One Tree Hill, or Weeds. But only because the Charmed box sets are in Brighton.

12. The first ever dinosaur to be named and studied was found a few miles down the road from where I live. THIS FACT EXCITES ME SO DAMN MUCH. I’m probably still a child.

Yesterday was quite honestly a nightmare. Picture the scene: -A hurricane of clothes decorating my room as I attempt to pack logically. -One MASSIVE suitcase plus 2 fairly heavy arm bags weighing me down as I trek half way across Brighton and up the mammoth hill to the station, I swear whoever built that place didn’t ever consider that people have to walk. With suitcases. -An exhausted, pale girl with too many bags slumped in a corner of the station unable to breathe or focus and trying not to cry (Hellooo Panic Attack, you beauty..). -A stupid amount of people on the trains that are normally empty at that time of day. -That fantastically insistent beeping of an iphone telling me it would like to die soon. StupidLackOfBatteryOnAnOtherwiseBeautifulPhone. -An hour and a half (at least) delay at Reading station, because somebody was hit by the train I should’ve been getting on. -*That* child with the bright pink suitcase who got between me and the train doors. Of the first rescheduled train back to Oxford. Thus preventing me from getting home for a good extra hour. Also making me feel as though I were essentially living ‘Sliding Doors’, and could have just missed a beautiful Scottish man, aka Mr John Hannah.. -And finally, sugar rush. From the banana & choc. chunk cakes with homemade-marshmallow icing I’d been chowing all morning, not to mention the entire tube of fruit pastilles I’d inhaled in a wacky attempt to curb the panic attack. There was a serious case of the sugar shakes going on..

Luckily, I managed to resist the urge to clobber the small child (and her pink suitcase) that prevented me from catching the closing doors of the train. Which is really probably a very good thing because I don’t think my stress headaches could deal with some sort of asbo/restraining order/formal complaint/arrest. But I mean seriously, let’s be honest, any day that begins as beautifully bright as yesterday was, and then has to be spent packing, is always going to be a failure.