Category / Life

by ChronicWriter

A Tale of Two Cities. Part 1: Cambridge

When you hear the words road trip, you automatically think route 66, exciting places, camper van, awesome people.

When you hear the words bus tour, you automatically think old people, England, drizzly weather, service stops, boring get-away.

NOT TRUE.

I have just returned home from a fab weekend away on a bus tour. I went with my cousin who is the same age as me and my grandparents who are over 70. It was great value for money and we all had a great time. Plus! because it was a bus trip, meaning we had a chauffeur the entire weekend, that meant we could nurse a hangover Sunday morning whilst still managing to see all the sights!

Saturday, we stopped off at Cambridge for a few hours; city number one. As we arrived at the outskirts of Cambridge on the coach, the houses were awesome, great mansions. The kind only rockstars can afford! There wasn’t that much traffic, i think when you start to go down south, your initial thought is it’s going to be manic. It wasn’t. But there were lots of bicycles. Lots. Whizzing through the streets like Harry Potter on his broomstick!

I have never been to Cambridge and expected a bunch of snotty nose snobby students, looking down their noses at our slightly northern accents and common tongue. It was lovely. King’s college looked amazing in the sunshine as we got off the bus and set off on our first adventure. The architecture, distinctly Gothic and I had no trouble romanticizing it at all!

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King’s College

The streets were crawling with tourists and there were people busking and selling punting excursions. It was great to get away from the hum-drum of everyday familiarity and meet the bustling streets with eyes wide open. Exciting! There was a great market on, offering fresh foot and vegetables, pashminas, scarves, handbags, antiques, and butchered meats! Making my way through the crowds it was obvious that the weather was only going to get warmer too!

We had a lovely afternoon tea in Marks & Spencers (my nan’s favourite) we had chocolate fudge cake and lattes, giving us just enough energy to continue our expedition. We decided to pay the extra cost to go on a punting tour; the young lad who was selling the tickets was clearly unprepared for my nan’s brazen ways. We all laughed as she made him write ‘Paid in full’ on the receipt. He shrewd perception and wit making it impossible for her to take this fellow on face value. The very popular punting tour would give us an opportunity to see all the colleges in their splendor without having to walk there! My feet were starting to hurt! Our punter guide was extremely knowledgeable and made the tour fun by adding in his little jokes about the feud between Cambridge and Oxford and how the architects were mostly drunk when designing the buildings years ago. My nan only made the journey more humorous by answering every question our guide asked, directly. Ha! The lovely young couple seated next to us taken aback by our northern charm! The sun was shining and the heat was amazing, it was like being on an excursion abroad! It was lovely and well worth booking!

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King’s Chapel

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Punting outside the College dorms

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St John’s College

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Mathematical bridge, Queen’s college – built 1902. Students have dismantled this bridge a number of times in a prank!

St John’s College was supposed to have a clock on the tower so that the students would always be on time for lectures, however the architect didn’t want to interrupt the symmetry of the building- it is also believed that he ran out of money! Whether that is a joke, I don’t know! However, when trinity college started doing very well, the architect decided he wouldn’t have the eagle facing the rival college and he turned its head left – breaking the symmetry!

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St John’s

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The Bridge of Sigh

The Bridge of Sigh

After the punt jaunt we had another walk around the city, stopped to get our bearing just outside a lovely Arts and Crafts market. Whilst i was wandering aimlessly, I started to hear drums and chanting. Confused I made my way back to where my little group were perched. I then witnessed a perfectly amicable protest, people chanting about getting the ‘tories out and ‘get rid of the scum!’ waving banners and flags. It was great to see that people are able to express their opinions and fight for what they believe in -without violence.

By this time, our feet were hurting but the sun was shining. The only thing that was difficult about Cambridge, was finding the high street shops. Everything was spread out. But we found a great shopping center with a massive New Look with lots of sales- so I can’t complain too much! I managed to get some lovely cut-out sandals for, black leather ones for £10! Anyway, I’m digressing…

We then fought through a sea of tourists, large groups of ethnic varieties; all angling their cameras at the Gothic splendor, and made our way back to the coach. As we began our short journey to our lodgings for the night; The Hilton Hotel at Milton Keynes, there were a few things that stuck in my mind about Cambridge. I could see why directors wanted to film Harry Potter there, I was never posh (or clever) enough to go to Cambridge university and I have never seen so many bicycles!

Please keep your eyes open for A Tale of Two Cities. Part 2: Oxford – where I’ll be telling you all about our night at the Hilton and our adventure in Oxford!

TTFN.

A xo

by ChronicWriter

“Just rip it off!”

There is nothing more horrifying for a young girl than going shopping with friends, sisters, boyfriends, whoever! And realising that not only are you a size bigger (or smaller!) than you once were. Standing in the changing rooms, breathing in, sucking everything in until passing out is an actual possibility. I have never been one for worrying what size I am, as long as I feel healthy, and to be honest it’s been a long time since I’ve felt normal nevermind healthy! So off we go- clothes shopping.

There were two traumas during this shopping trip; I have misplaced some boobs somewhere, dropping 2 cup sizes. I also got stuck in a dress!

STUCK IN A DRESS.

I have repeated myself because I just want that statement to sink in for a moment… picture it.

Wandering around the shops, grabbing a dress or two, heading over to the changing rooms, I’m full of smiles. Loving the dress I’d found, I dragged my little sister into the changing room. The size 12 I picked up was so skin tight my sister had to push parts of me in just to pull it down!

Not worrying too much I attempted to get it off. “Eh?! So what if I have to get the next size up? I love this dress” 

I couldn’t get it off. I was literally stuck in this dress. I’m giggling and laughing, saying pull and push, this way and that way and it still wouldn’t budge. My sister is yelling at me without shouting (it’s kind of a yelling voice but in hush tones for those that have never done this!) telling me to try and bend over so she can pull it over my head, I’m thinking if I bend, the seam of this dress is going to go and my ass is gonna be out of the thing! I then got really hot all of a sudden as a feeling of extreme claustrophobia overcomes me, panicking “just rip it off, get it off me!”

Finally, using the “PIVOT!” method, I was out of the friggin’ thing.

I was hysterical. Hysterically laughing. We were laughing so much.

Standing in my underwear I then wait for my sister to bring me the next size up. A quick knock and she comes strolling in, with this leading statement: “The 12 was way too small, so I got a 16.” My jaw hit the floor, tongue rolled out, eyes wide. 16?! The size 16 wasn’t much better, giggling to each other and giving up, my sister and I decided to look at shoes. I’m always the same size in shoes!

To jump from a size 12 to a size 16 in 10 minutes is every woman’s nightmare. Or so I thought?

Recently, I have found it hard to laugh. I have found it hard to be positive- especially about my body. Not so much body image but resentful that my body hates itself and gives me chronic pain. And so, this ‘stuck in a dress-gate’ was just what I needed! I needed to laugh. Not only were me and my sister laughing, but apparently the rest of the ladies in the other changing cubicles had a good chuckle about it as well.

The design of the dress, the fabric it’s made out of obviously doesn’t suit curvy women; and I’m sticking to that statement.

So traumatic it could have been, but at least I made myself and other ladies smile for 5 minutes.
I hope this made you smile, just a little.

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Little 16

A xo

by ChronicWriter

Dear Mr Prime Minister,

Firstly I’d like to congratulate you on your recent victory in the 2015 General Elections.

I am hoping that the rise in UKIP and Labour votes and how passionate the British citizens are about the National Health Service have caused you to have second thoughts about disbanding it.

I am only writing to voice my concerns about your plans to make the NHS private. Please don’t. Not only is this country proud to have such a great service but the employees within the NHS work hard to make it so. I know it doesn’t always have a good light and I’ve had my fair share of rubbish experiences via the NHS, but it’s a facility we desperately need in the UK.

I am 24 years old. I graduated university at 21 with honours and started working full time in my chosen field within a few weeks of getting my diploma. I had 4 jobs within private facilities and the NHS; working in mental healthcare. I pay national insurance and starting paying back my student loans. I was doing well.

Last year, I visited my GP with complaints of increasing pain every month, coinciding with my menstrual cycle. I was referred to a gynaecologist. He gave me medication and refused to send me for surgery, thinking it would be too invasive. Six months later, in August, I was so overcome with pain I had to drag myself to the bathroom, crawling into the bath to try and find some relief. I contacted NHS Direct (111) and they advised I sought urgent medical attention. My partner drove me to A&E. I was admitted to hospital and given several tests which all proved normal. I was sent home.

I was admitted to hospital twice more last year. Once in September for a week, where the staff in hospital helped me manage the pain before discharging me and referring me to a specialist. The second time was a week before my wedding. The staff, once again helped me manage the pain, which was excruciating- I can’t even describe it. And I only had 3 days on my feet before I got married, but I made it!

In January 2015, on my birthday, I had my first Laparoscopic surgery. My consultant found that my ovaries had fused to my pelvis and I had adhesions all around my reproductive organs and pelvis. These all had to be lasered away. I was diagnosed with severe Endometriosis.

Endometriosis is a chronic illness in which endometrial tissue (normally found in the uterus) is found in other parts of the body. It is commonly found in the reproductive area but can be found in the abdominal cavity, it has even been found in the lungs. Each month, hormonal changes in the body trigger the endometrial tissue to dissolve (a period), which means the tissue in other parts of the body bleeds as well. This can lead to severe pain. 1 in 10 women suffer with Endometriosis. There is no cure.

It is now 5 months since my surgery and I am in pain every single day. I have had to leave my full time job in healthcare as I was unable to do 12 hour shifts. I now work part-time as a receptionist. I can pretend to be alright most days and manage to fool most people. But unfortunately, I am not always able to do so, leading to time off work.

If you decide to make us pay for medical treatment or healthcare, I will not be able to afford to manage the awful pain I am in. I am already on several different types of pain relief and anti-depressants. I benefit so much from the NHS and they have helped me a lot. I would go out of my mind if I didn’t find some relief from my chronic pain.

So, I am pleading with you Mr Cameron, please please do not do away with the NHS. I know I am only one of thousand’s who wouldn’t survive without it.

Yours faithfully.

by ChronicWriter

Reaching the limit

I can do this?

Over the past few months a lot has happened that has impacted my life in a huge way. I am learning to live with the restrictions my body puts on me, learning what my limits are all over again. Training myself to work through pains and emotions that would have broken me 8 months ago. Slowly, I am realising that my mind must acclimate to these changes as well and acknowledge them if I want to be sane.

You see, my mind is all for hitting the gym for an hour, more than willing to stuff myself at meal times, happy to stay up all night watching Netflix. But the fact is, my body is no longer capable of doing any of those things. (have you read the Spoon Theory? This might help you understand my predicament)

8 months ago I was able to do 13 hour shifts and overtime in a high-stress role. Sadly, I just can’t do that anymore. I’ve missed it and been sad, resenting my body for fighting itself every month, tearing itself to bits, hating it. But my husband just said; “you can’t and it’s that way it is, being sad about it isn’t going to change it and you just have to adapt” – to be the best I can be.. now.

Getting back up..

When your body and/or emotions take a hammering, you’ll find ways of coping. Little tricks that help me to deal with the shitty situation I sometimes find myself in. This past week, I spent another few days in hospital, my little home away from home, with divine cuisine and luxury facilities. Between waking from my pain-killer induced dozes and trying to manage a pain storm, I read. If I ever find a few moments when I can concentrate enough to see the words, I can disappear, be absorbed into the pages and live through the characters in the story – just for a while. It’s my great escape. I have read a lot in since we said goodbye to 2014. Life can be difficult, but it’s the little things that can make it a little easier; a good book, a long bath, pudding… everybody loves pudding.

A xo

Books I have read recently & can recommend:

Please see my book reviews as some are included!

by ChronicWriter

Lessons

This last year I have learned a lot. About myself. About other people. About life.

It’s not been easy, but it’s been a valuable life lesson none the less. These are but a few, but good ones:

1. I’ve learned that no matter how much anxiety you bring to yourself, you can never alter someone’s thoughts about you. Not always. Not everyone is going to like me, I’m ok with that now, I get it. Not everyone likes the same flavour ice cream and that’s ok- like my ice cream metaphor? Ha. I have learned that you can’t please everybody, try and think about yourself too. You shouldn’t have to explain why you are who you are, you shouldn’t have to change yourself or your opinions.

2. There are times when you’re going to break, you can only push yourself so hard and stretch yourself thin for so long before you give in. Realising a weakness is not a failure, it’s an opportunity for you to learn how to pick yourself back up. I’ve been guilty of feeling bad when I can’t give 110% in a job. I feel guilty when I don’t manage get all my jobs done, or I forget someone’s birthday. Shit happens, give yourself a break. If you’re burning the candle at both ends, something is gonna get lost somewhere, just be thankful that you don’t lose yourself.

3. It’s ok to ask for help. You don’t have to be strong all of the time. It’s exhausting.

4. The door swings both ways. Do not take all the responsibility of a relationship on your shoulders; whether it’s intimate, family or friendships. There’s a lot to carry by yourself! It is both parties’ responsibility to maintain a relationship; visiting, phone calls, texts, etc happens both ways.

So the next time someone says: “I haven’t seen you in ages, I thought you’d forgotten about me?”

Your inner response should reply: “And you let me?”

5. Be aware that people change. The people you went to school with are now grown up and, like you, have their own lives. People grow apart as there lives take them on different paths, don’t worry. With enough effort (on both sides) you can still be in each others’ lives. Just know that babies, careers, relationships, houses, all the grown up stuff, take time and a lot of energy; be patient and thoughtful.

6. It’s ok for you to be mad at people if they’ve hurt you. If you’re hurting or upset because of someone’s negative actions against you, don’t feel guilty for feeling that way.

7. Do not sweat the little things. I know, right? That’s easier said than done. But it’s not good for you, and can cause even more problems. Are you worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet? I’m talking about the “What if this happens? What if I can’t do this?”- it’s like worrying about ice cream that hasn’t melted yet (have I used ice-cream somewhere else?). These little things, you’ll realise, seem so stupid and tiny when something big eventually rears its ugly head. You’ll want to kick yourself for it. And, I am the ultimate culprit for doing this, and that’s why I’ll look old and haggard before any of you.

8. Don’t apologise if it’s not your fault. I’m forever sorry- even if I have done nothing. Someone bumps into me, I’ll say sorry. Someone spills their drink on me, I’m sorry. I am trying to break out of this habit. It’s hard.

9. Know when you’re in a rut and get out. Know yourself and identify negative changes early. Physically and emotionally. I wasn’t paying attention and it took me longer to recover.

10. Realise what you’ve got around you. I didn’t know just how good I had it until I didn’t have anything else. Until my crappy health smacked me in the face and made me pay attention. Don’t wait for a smack in the face.

As I said, just a few of the lessons I’ve learned this year. I want to thank all those who taught them to me one way or another.

A xo

by ChronicWriter

Those who wander are not lost
Lincoln Cathedral

Going on an outing by myself is something I have never done. Unless I have an errand or something to do. But to wander around aimlessly, alone, was enjoyable. Don’t get me wrong I love spending time with my friends, my family and my husband. But to enjoy some me time, quietly, wandering from one interesting place to another is something quite different. This alone time allowed me to reflect on what is current in my life, to put things into perspective and to manage my thoughts.

It is important to remember that I am an individual, with my own interests and favourites. I think sometimes when you are one half of a pair it is easy to forget your own needs and wants. Luckily, the other half of my pair understands me and motivates me to follow my passions.

Whilst walking around Lincoln city center on my own, I kept thinking how cities are full of variety, full of culture and opportunities. I came to realise that creative beings will like and inspire and try to motivate other creative beings. Like a cult – moulding one mind after another with bright colours, magical words and captivating tones. Be them artist, writer, composer or actor.

A friend, who has known me a long time, told me to keep writing.
An acquaintance told me to write, if it is my passion, to write.
Does that mean they recognise me as one of their own? Oh, to be creative! For I have never identified myself thus.

Maybe I should be a writer. I mean, if creative people think my writing is good then surely it is, right?

As I said, creative people seem to want to enable other creative people. And this is a wonderful thing to do.

A xo

by ChronicWriter

I got married!!!!!

I am now Mrs Aimée Finlay
And I love it!
I felt a certain melancholy mood when it hit me that I was having to relinquish up my maiden name, I mean, we’ve been through a lot together. School, first boyfriends, bad boyfriends, bullies, college, driving, uni, several jobs… it all adds up! But then, as I signed my name Miss A Staples, for the very last time, I looked to the man next to me and realised that my name might change, but I would always be who I am, and this guy will always be along for the ride. (— I know! loved up smushy stuff!)
My husband & I
Planning the wedding was a laid back procedure. We decided where and when in January 2014. I decided my bridesmaids would have dresses that were comfortable and that they’d be able to wear again. My cake was made by my Nan (who else?) she makes her cakes with love. The groom organised the food and his suit. He didn’t wear jeans, he looked very dapper in a suit. Our wedding invitations we designed ourselves after perusing Pinterest for what seemed like an age! We had them printed at Burgess in Retford. The staff there were lovely and put up with me and my nagging and editing..they helped us make our invites bespoke and something special –  http://www.burgessdesignandprint.com/
The dress. She was amazing. Off white, simple, full-length, elegant. My dress came from a lovely boutique in Bawtry, South Yorkshire –  Celebrations of Bawtry. Susan is a wonderful woman who provides such an excellent service for ladies looking for their special dress. She turns this into an experience, she’s warm, welcoming, down to earth and amazing at what she does. Susan had me more excited every minute I was in her shop! I tried on a few different dresses but knew the moment I saw it which one was meant for me. I remember saying to Susan “I feel like dancing..” She replied “Dance then!” So there I was, in a stunning bridal gown, dancing! I will remember that moment for the rest of my life. Thank you for being so wonderful and looking after me so well!
Me and my Daddy
My hair was done by the lovely Dominique at SalonYou in Retford. I had a glass of Prosecco, relaxed and left it all to her. Due to being poorly, I’d had to cancel my trial so didn’t really have a plan with what it was going to look like. Did I worry? No. Dom was perfect. She made me look like I had loads more hair than I did and it looked fab! Check out the salon: www.salon-you.co.uk 5 star service! 
 
One of my oldest (as in, I’ve known her forever, not that she’s old!) friends helped me with my make-up. She’s studying veterinary nursing at uni, but she’s a wizard with a make-up brush. We talked about what I wanted. She recommend I get Bare Minerals lightest foundation – expensive but awesome! We had a trial, which took over an hour as I kept having a breakdown and giggling! She was smashing. You wouldn’t have believed I’d come out of hospital a week before the wedding and had been very ill! My make-up was flawless. Nicola Morris, I salute you!
My Bridesmaids: Luci, Lora (MoH), Kitty & Alice
My flowergirl: Annabel
We married in my home town Retford; surrounded by the people we love, at a time of year that I get ecstatic about – Christmas! Our Ceremony took place at the registry office. The promises we made to each other were lovely and I giggled the whole way through it!
Santa’s here
The Reception was held at the Town Hall in the ballroom, which is an amazing room all on its own without the decorations. The lights were twinkling, guests were smiling and even Santa made an appearance. We decided that we would make our wedding all about family, relaxed, fun and memorable. Santa came and all the mini-guests got a gift. It was special and makes me smile every time I think of their little faces; waiting, gazing up at him.
Our first dance; Van Morrison’s Moondance, was the highlight of my night. I’ve never felt more in love than that moment. I put my arms around my husband and wanted to squish him so tight he couldn’t breathe BUT for photo purposes, I held it together!
First dance as Mr & Mrs Finlay
I threw my bouquet into a crowd of eager ladies of all ages. Friends I’ve grown up with through high school and college, family members who are already married, and little ladies who won’t be marrying for at least 10 years. I hurled that bouquet at them with wreckless abandon. My youngest new daughter, Alice (who’s 10) leaped over my friends and caught the bouquet, wrestling for it! I laughed a lot. My friend, who felt cheated, did not. Ah well… When catching a bouquet, it’s every girl for herself!
After catching the bouquet: Kitty & Alice
Decorations were decided based on the festive season and were child-friendly and mostly edible. I put candy canes and sweets on mini Christmas trees with LED lights wrapped around. There were crackers galore.
The entertainment came in the form of Sabrina Martin. Her Lady Vintage set was amazing. She’s such a lovely lady, and helped us feel at ease from the planning, to the run-up and then the actual event. If you haven’t heard of her, look her up! @SabrinaMOffic on Twitter – sabrinamartina.com – or look for her on YouTube. Sabrina turned a great night into something extra special. I will recommend her to any event.
One of my dear friends; me & Sara
My wedding day was amazing. I looked like a bride, felt like a bride, actually WAS a BRIDE. But, whilst saying that, it was great to get home and put my jammies on! You can put a girl in the dress, but it shouldn’t change who she is.
Thank you to all those who came to celebrate our love for one another. It was a very special day and I will remember it forever.
Us
Nick, I love you. Everyday.
A xo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xqurxpB3XU – A taste of Sabrina, our singer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lFxGBB4UGU – Van Morrison’s Moondance (have a listen!)
by ChronicWriter

So listen…I’m at work at a Drum&Bass event and I’m approached by someone wanting a drink.. This seems all very normal – it is. Double vodka red bull: Normal. £2.70: Normal. She pays with a £5 note: Normal. White powder on my hands after handling the note: DEFINITELY NOT NORMAL.

I don’t think I’ve ever overreacted more. I mean..I was justified. It’s not every day that I have illegal residue on my hands. It was very difficult to keep calm. But what’s worse is, the fact that the girl whose not it was was completely nonchalant about it. Didn’t seem to care! Like nothing was amiss. It was very odd.

So, after washing my hands at least 6 times (with alcohol gel and bleach) I went home and after conveying the events to my housemates discovered that my reaction was completely normal. My housemates said that they surely would’ve reacted in the same way. It was SHOCKING.

A xo

by ChronicWriter

Tattoo: Artistic or Taboo?

Everytime I get a new tattoo, my mum always says something like:

“You’re not going to want tattoos when you’re 90 and an old lady. What are you gonna do then?”

My response:

“Nothing. I’m gonna be a kick-ass Granma.”

Although I can understand her point of view, it’s hard for me to feel as though I should defend myself. I had my tattoos done for me, for reasons personal to me. I don’t criticise when someone I know gets a new hair cut or a piercing or goes on a diet. It’s none of my business. It’s the same for tattoos.

At one time, tattoos were regarded as gang signs, trade signs, and for gentry (male) only. Something, that marks your body forever, something permanent, exclusive, illlustrious. When did that change? At some point, we stopped viewing tattoos as something taboo and starting thinking of them as art, our bodies as canvases.

In the 19th Century, Harmsworth Magazine estimated that 1 in 5 gentlemen in Britain had tattoos. Men gathered in drawing rooms in huge estate homes, to boast their ink. So even then it was well regarded in high society. There were consistent rumours that Queen Victoria had a small tattoo in an intimate place (bet she did, saucy minx!) as well as he consort Prince Albert (and we all know what he’s famous for!)

I think ink gives a person the opportunity to express themselves, showing who they really are.  It wouldn’t do for everyone to look the same.

A xo
 
 
 
   
You should know….
 a tattoo should be thought out carefully and planned. You  should know the artist and be comfortable in working with her/him.

by ChronicWriter

Learning to Exhale

When everything’s going a million miles an hour and a month turns into a year overnight, a lot of people (mainly girlfriends) I’ve spoken to start to panic. Me included, I assure you. Take the last year, I’ve gone from plodding through student life one lecture and exam at a time, to full time work. This year started with a great lapse in my physical health, which caused a huge emergency stop and a lot of tea to get over it.
Which has led me to now, about start a new job with more responsibility than my lil’ shoulders can carry. I’m the first to admit; at one time you’d probably find me in a cupboard rocking somewhere. However, over the last few months I’ve gained a new perspective.

I’ve realised that if I’m going to save the world, it’s time to learn to exhale. Take the good with the bad. I can’t constantly be worrying about ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what will they think?’ The answer is…Who cares? Be who you want to be, everything else will fall into place.

Shit is gonna happen people. And there’s not a lot we can do about it. It’s not about the challenges or mistakes we make it’s how we meet it head on, stare it full in its ugly face and say “fuck you” (pause for dramatic affect).

 A xo