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



If you have read my previous blogs you will have read about my troubles with our troll-like housemate (we have nicknamed her ‘Troll’ because a) she looks like one b) she must smell bad due to numerous showers and c) she talks like one) This is chapter 2 on this issue. enjoy….

So…. at the minute it would appear that we are currently running a free B&B service here at our student house.

THE TROLL has decided it is appropriate to have people staying over within a week of each other. This, I don’t mind but they don’t contribute anything to bills and they’re having a few showers each day (cos they smell bad) and they’re cooking their own food. On top of this, she’s leaving them alone while she fucks about at uni.. charging their phones, inviting whoever they want round.’s not a friggin’ free for all love!! 

She’s got this seriously ignorant side to her as well…she never talks to us. Never even utters a sentence in our presence ………………………………………………………….until she fucking needs something. Like, she can’t afford to pay her bills on time, or she’s “cold” — baring in mind that she walks around in summer tops most of the time (mong).

We are now taking bookings for next week, feel free to take advantage of all the free electric gas and nice hot running water coz we dont have to pay bills at all…. im sure 5 of u in that little room is incredibly comfortable….
please call 0800 free-4-troll-friends. Pfft!

Keep you posted guys.. A xo

p.s. she also goes by the alias — “The Cretin”.. ya hear that name…run

my odd encounter

While waiting for the bus I’m approached by what I can only describe as a retired lady cage-fighter. Think Pat Butcher but hung in gold with 2 Staffordshire Bull Terriers at her heels. And I swear half her ear was missing!

She waddled up to me, frowning.
“Emma?” No, I’m not Emma.
“Chris’ fiancée?” Nope. “I’m sure you’re Emma.” Nope, again.
“I swear you look just like Emma!” Well, I’m definitely not Emma. I assured her of this in the nicest way possible. Hoping she understood and wasn’t an escapee from Broadmoor.

Then she went on to talk to me about everything & anything in her life. Clearly deranged, she kept coming back to the fact that I looked like this ‘Emma’ character as though I was the one who’d got it wrong..
This woman, we’ll call her Sue, looked like she’d been kicked off the Jeremy Kyle Show. She wore tattered Reebok classics, joggers, an Elessee jumper that had brown stains down the front and a beige fleece that was 10 sizes too big for her. She seemed a nice enough old lady so I stood & chatted while I waited for the bus (which was late..again!).

She told me all about her son’s phone and how O2 messed his contract up so she’d had to send it back and what a huge polava it was. Bless her. I’m not gonna lie, the whole situation made me feel a little uncomfortable. She had odd earrings that were green around the lobe and she had these massive gold sovereign rings and necklaces. Her hair was scraped back and laqcuered from her face and was all tatty at the ends. I felt for her.. clearly she was a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic and all I could think was ‘this is someone’s Nan.’

I wasn’t going to be rude and I couldn’t see any harm in chatting to her. She’s probably couped up all day with her gangster husband who smoked cigars and drank during the day with her delinquent son who wore a tag (yes, she told me about that too!).

Then when she said (pointing out one of her staffys) “she’s getting old this one, can hardly make it on our walks. I think she’s been mounted too cos she’s walkin all funny” I thanked whoever was up there that the bus was in sight. I have nothing to say, when it comes to doggy style!!
I’m all for neighbourly bonding but there’s gotta be a line. And that was it.
But I can’t help thinking about if she’d approached someone else in the street, perhaps someone less understanding (a yob). It’s frightening to think that there are people out there that can’t show compassion for an elderly lady with mental problems. So, I suppose, that I’m glad she came and shared bits of her life with me…in a way. And I hope that she felt a little bit better for it.

A xo