Deer in headlights…

I’m just over here waiting for my Glo-Up.

This elusive term has been plaguing social media for a while now and for anyone that doesn’t know what it means it’s basically when the ugly duckling, transforms into a swan and tramples all over the “haters” as they feel fab (a touch petty, but who doesn’t like revenge?)

Just to clarify, I don’t want the aesthetic glo-up (I mean it would be nice but I’m okay with hiding in the background at the mo). I want the kind where I actually become a co-ordinated human being and not someone that manages to make a fool of myself at every opportunity.

Yesterday I fell off a treadmill. It’s a pretty simple piece of equipment, even with an emergency stop button. But alas, running for my life, feeling pretty good about how much pain I’m intentionally putting myself through and then BAMN.

A few years back I hurt my knees and ankles in a horse-riding incident (I landed on my feet, ew) and they have been getting worse as time has gone by. But as one of my legs gave way putting me off my stride; resulting in me stumbling, falling and nearly strangling myself on my headphones (all completely graceful *not*) pushing the emergency stop button never occurred to me. Am I feeling alright? I just sometimes wonder, why me? And why do I get myself into these situations?

I’m a full-time pleb, yearning to get my s*** together, but when you have the characteristics of a deer in headlights, it’s no wonder. Am I right? *rolls eyes*

Have fun out there!


Pipedream xx


A Guide to Backburners

I dodged a bullet.

A few of you have been asking me to write this for a while and I think now is the absolute perfect time.


Dating is a very very tough sport, full of failure and success. It’s competitive and more often than not (for me anyway) brutal.

I have found that there are so many terms regarding dating; for all the factions in which you encounter within it e.g. “ghosting”, “catch and release”, “layby” and I wanted to now add in one of my own.

I mean it’s highly controversial and morally wrong, but as a species, we are forever looking to see if the grass is greener and social media and the abundance of dating apps allow this too happen more frequently than not.

Whenever friends are “seeing” someone I always ask if they have any “backburners”. Now you may be asking, Pipedream, what on earth are backburners? Well dear reader I will tell you.

I cannot deny that in the past I have had back-burners. These are the people that you are talking too but remain simmering away at the back of the hob, whilst the main candidate is on full heat at the front. *Beyoncé hair flick*

The backburners however, can be switched on to a higher heat (bit of cheeky flirting) as the front runners continue or just let you down. *meh*

It can appear fickle but I highly doubt anyone reading this can deny EVER doing it (if you can I’m obviously just a bad person) and I have just created a term for such madness.

I would also like to add that if anyone has someone on the back-burner now, they most indefinitely are the people you should be dating. Because if the person on full heat was really that much of a gem, the others wouldn’t matter.

Have fun out there!


Pipedream xx

Feeling myself…

I’m just over here, feeling myself, don’t mind me.

I feel gooooooooood today. Recently my blog has been solely an outlet for me to vent about areas in my life that need improving and changing, and as time has rolled on I have been such a negative Nancy within my posts. However, the majority of negativity that I harbour is towards how I look, physically and aesthetically; as I am usually very insecure, needing people’s affirmation to validate whether I am a good enough human.

Today. is. where. this. changes.

I have woken up, the sun is shining and I have a spring in my step. I overlooked my flaws; my chunky arms, weird shaped hips and my obvious over-consumption of bread (stomach rolls), and looked in the mirror and told myself “I am fab, as I am”.

It is a huge waste of time and energy focussing solely on negative aspects of my life and myself.

I am breathing ✔️

I live comfortably ✔️

I am surrounded by the best people ✔️

I have good hair – a strong muddy brown ✔️

My boobs look good ✔️

I feel fab ✔️

I’m not sure why it has taken 20 years to figure out, but it’s not self-righteous or vain or egotistical (which society brands anyone that is happy within themselves) to feel good and own that.

Im probably not the only one, but when I ordered clothes online, as soon as they arrived and I put them on, I expected the garment to transform my body shape into the image of the model that made me buy it in the first place. I usually sent the items back because I didn’t feel good/sexy enough to wear it, or as if I wasn’t allowed to wear it, because I branded myself mediocre or not womanly enough. Comparing is bad.

I’m completely done with comparing myself to others, when it is absolutely impossible to achieve the same or look the same; instead I want to commend them for being different, beautiful, achieving amazing things and doing their best but also allow myself to think the same things too.

Have fun out there,



Being an A**hole…

I have a massive chip on my shoulder *Not literally, I am perfectly healthy*

Semantically that phrase could have a multiple of meanings, the first assumed usually being “a person who thinks highly of themselves without the credentials”. However, my chip provokes a defiance and hostility, when an insecurity is provoked. *sigh* Because I have many.

I love to keep up with Celebrity Gossip and News, being an avid reader of Cosmopolitan to the Daily Mail, and yesterday an article was written about a celebrity interview that struck some home truths.

Jennifer Lawrence has been an advocate of honesty and is usually one for removing the rose-tinted glasses of Hollywood, which is something I completely adore about her. She was in the midst of being interviewed for the show ‘Actors on Actors’ by Adam Sandler, when she expressed that when she socially interacts in public she becomes “incredibly rude” because it’s the “only way of defending” herself and this is something I can completely relate too.

As a species we are expected to be sociable and amenable, however that can expose us to many opportunities of hurt. Dating, education, careers and other scenarios which expose us all to knock-backs, rejections and successes which shape our characters as individuals.

I am completely aware that my knock-backs and rejections have strengthened my mentality in dealing with them, as I will always get back up and continue; however, I wrongly assume that my success is a coping mechanism which is a hostility when someone pokes the monster that is made up of my insecurities.

I work in a predominantly male environment where “banter” overrules the art of conversation but as the finger points to me, after months of trying; I have used up all of my witty remarks and sly digs, resorting to my old friend hostility and defiance. Some may not say hard enough, but during these last few months I have tried to get out of my comfort zone as much as possible, by taking part in activities that previously made me want to melt into the ground.

I tried to resolve my defiance and hostility by putting in zero effort when socialising. Which I thought would be a better idea, than putting in effort and failing; as that would definitely light up my insecurities, when the jokes punchline was me.

It’s something I want to shake off, but when I feel vulnerable I find myself saying hateful things that I don’t mean, in the hope that the other person will retract and leave me to deal with myself. This is of course all going on inside my head and on the exterior, I am a “calm, calculated” person that hates to make a fool of myself (mutually felt by many of us) even though it comes naturally. I’m just a mess.

My current inability to quash my insecurities, prevents me from doing so many things; from sport, to being on stage (a dream) *sigh*.

However, I am still rather young, with lots of time for growth; something I intend to do. Grow.

Have fun out there!

With love,

Pipedream xx

Diaries of a Potato

As I mooched around Sainsbury’s on a mission for ingredients for the evening cooking sessions at school; I realised that I’m slowly creeping into my old comfort eating habits and general laziness.

Last week was a big week for me, because I had joined the gym with lots of good intentions and abs in mind. The problem is however, that I have a classic potato mindset, I’m insecure about people seeing me workout and I’ve just started watching stranger things… resulting in me not going once these past couple of days. Instead I’ve stuffed my face and cried in the mirror.

Fast forward to today and I feel a little disgusted by my joy and enthusiasm for eating (all the bad things) and rewarding myself for merely getting out of bed this morning; with my favourite strawberry liquorice and a pot of liquid chocolate *face palm*. It’s now getting to the point where I am worried to even try on my gym clothes, because they probably won’t fit around my fluctuating hips, expanding thighs and don’t get me started on my poor sports bra (it has already been through enough as it is).

BUT Christmas is plastered all over our shops and I’m using the whole “it’s Christmas” excuse to prevent the shame of admitting my eating habits are disgusting and I’m a bit of a carb mess. It’s also November and I’m told “too soon” for Christmas. Humbug.

As I age I feel like weight is such a controversial subject for me because somedays I “werk” my winter coverage feeling all empowered, owning my body, but other days I cry in the corner, wiping my tears away with magazine cut outs of Victoria Secret Models. Le sigh.

The problem I feel is I signed up for the gym because of superficial reasons, I want to look “hot” and my idea of hot is not my body shape. My height also intensifies weight gain and coverage because you can look a lot bigger due to being a little compressed in height compared to tall people. Small people, do you hear me? Or is my 5″3 self making up b***s***?

My heart and happiness definitely lies with sugary, carbohydrate food and lots of it, and I never feel joyful after exercise. I just hurt. I need to find the middle ground and I will; but just for tonight I’ll finish my bag of sweets (with joy) and think about all the seriousness of health tomorrow.

Have fun out there!


Pipedream xx


Throughout my childhood, I can always remember being surrounded by avid story tellers; my Grandad being the biggest.

I have many fond memories sitting around the ever changing dining room table at the family home (I swear each time I visited, it changed) with Grandad at the head of it, deep within the depths of a story. And no story was ever the same.

They always, most definitely evolved into more dramatic versions as a new guests listened, and encouraged him further.

His stories revelled in magic and people within his day to day life, captivating anyone in his company and I guess I’ve always craved to tell stories like him. To make life seem a little more magic.

However, yesterday I swear I saw a little glimpse of that story telling magic return. I’m very aware of coincidences but I have always been a bit of a skeptic about synchronicities (“meaningful coincidences”).

No one likes to lose their phone, especially now that a life can be stored within a thin slice of metal and glass; Bank details, favourite songs that remind you of good times and the ever growing apps to keep you entertained instead of socialising with humans. But that was exactly what I had done.

I had remained casually calm but 2 hours later and my steps fully retraced, despair began to seep in. I had received help from lots of people in the attempt to find my phone and I had experienced no luck.

Side note: Why on earth did I not think to register on “find my iPhone”? Am I mad?

Zeb (my car) had been subjected to thorough examinations (and my erratic driving between the sites of where I work) and me dramatically hitting the steering wheel, begging the heavens for a little touch of magic.

Since having my car, it’s been my most convenient place to throw fits of rage, sadness and overwhelming joy in utter privacy. But as I drove away from campus, shouting at the sky, I cannot express my shock as lightning flashed through the sky, just at the pinnacle of my rant.

The lightning I experienced wasn't a dramatic as this GIF.

Something within me, in that moment, changed. And I weirdly knew (synchronicity?) that I was going to find it. Don’t even ask why… I was just following my gut.

I had parked up and retraced my steps further and face down in the mud (in tyre tracks) was my phone and it’s ridiculous coloured case… brown. (I had checked there prior but in the midst of panic, I must have overlooked it).

I understand that this sounds absolutely ridiculous, and lightning adds a touch of pathetic fallacy to the story but in that very moment all was ironic and a touch monumental.

I think I need to invest in a glow in the dark case or something with a little more pizazz, in case this happens again. And I absolutely intend to switch on find my iPhone…

I have no idea what point this post serves but I feel like you should be reading this around a fire, listening to equally dreadful stories told by others.

Have fun out there.

With love,

Pipedream xx

When life goes grey…

I have been back home from Paris now for two weeks and two days and I feel like my life has been resembling a spinning top, whizzing out of control.

I have of course been very busy with work and as the daylight hours dwindle, so does my enthusiasm for busy, social days (as I am zapped from the fast paced notion of my current career). But as I stop pouring in effort to maintain the life outside of work, I am slowly feeling a little lost and I’m not sure who I am as a person anymore.

I am finding myself trying to cling on to my taste in clothing; as I have always dressed differently (I definitely think differently too), I love adventurous, radical hairstyle changes and outfit combos full of colour. But I’m starting to feel like this liberal self-expression that I’ve explored for my meagre 20 years of life so far, isn’t suited to my life anymore and I’m starting to feel restless in my own skin.

I feel like the real issue is a sense of belonging. Paris really emphasised my need to be back home in this small seaside town, however now I’ve moved out of my family home, and relatives are all moving away; I’m not sure what home is supposed to feel like anymore.

With Venus meeting Jupiter in my 4th, impacting Neptune in my 8th the astrologer in me doesn’t think this is just a coincidence. Home is an important issue on the cards and the angles of the stars are making me pay attention to it.

All of this time away from family and friends has changed my perspective on my view of home. It’s not a set place, it’s the people that surround you which determine what is home and right now I’m craving the company of people that have help shaped my past which was full of fun and self-expression; something that I feel is waining within me now.

I no longer paint, sing cheesy songs in a dramatic way or do things that were remotely me and I feel my lack of blog posts resemble my current bleak outlook on life, as I have found it hard to materialise how I feel.

I want life to sparkle again. And I want to go home…

Have fun out there.


Pipedream xx


 NOSTALGIE DE LA BOUE: A desire to live a simpler, downsized, less indulgent life. It literally means “yearning for the mud”. 

I finished the final day in Paris with a mooch around the Sacre Coeur and the building itself made me feel something I would never associate with a cathedral. 

I was raised an atheist but brought up to be appreciative of everyone’s thoughts and beliefs (however different to my own) and a place of worship is not usually a place I will actively go to on trips away. I cannot deny that I wasn’t particularly enthused with the idea of traipsing around a cathedral, and the students were very disinterested in the whole affair; picking Crêperies over the architecture. I put my pessimism aside and stepped inside and the energy within the building was electric. 

As soon as the door closed behind me, I had goosebumps crawling up my skin and I felt a unique sense of unity which laced the air. Candles were flickering along the walls of the Sacre Coeur, lit by anyone and everyone giving a little hope to the world. I found myself seated in awe of the tourists like myself and the praying in the central isles. 
I sat there for nearly 30 minutes taking it all in; the elaborate décor, the hubbub of people and the energy of hope. One woman in particular, stole my attention. She was kneeling, facing the altar, her hands so tightly clenched that her knuckles were white. The words she was whispering to herself, were felt with such conviction that you could visibly see the determination and need for what little hope to be had, to be received by her. 
I cannot begin to imagine what she was so desperately seeking from the deity “above” but it let my mind wander towards the streets of home and how I am desperate to return to them. Paris holds so much love, hope and prospects but there is only so long a small-town girl can spend in the chic streets of Paris without craving the comfort of a scruffy, little seaside town which is my home. 

This week has been full of fun, and memories that will reside in my brain forever. But as I pack up my suitcase in preparation to leave tomorrow, I have a giddy excitement to see the faces I left behind. 
Have fun out there!
From Paris,
With love. 
Pipedream xxx

The real Paris 

I feel like I am resembling Del Boy Trotter as I get to grips with Parisienne life. 
The French I am realising, are very courteous of my lack of, as I forget to talk the language of their birth in favour of my own. I find myself casually wishing them good days and thank you’s, which is very polite if you’re in Britain, but I’m not. 

I am now starting to think that I have found a new talent which is: consciously remembering that I am in France and then creatively stringing a sentence together, blending the two languages into this weird mix that makes absolutely zero sense. *I’m a mess*

However, Paris is a dream and I am forever in love with this city. Personally, there is nothing quite like being a tourist in Paris, camera in hand meandering around the streets capturing generic shots of the Eiffel Tower and Arc De Triomph. But from yesterday’s experiences, that is not the “real Paris”. 

Paris is one of the most walkable cities around, as the architecture is a joy and completely insta-worthy and there is always something to pique your interest (of course mine are patisseries. I LOVE MACAROONS). However 20 children in tow, and a small budget (not allowing frequent Metro stints) we really had to utilise that “walkable” city. 

From our hotel, the main sights of Paris are a minimum of 1 hour 30 minutes away (walking), which is quite the challenge with unenthused teenagers that have 0 interest in the sights. 

However, before leaving for Paris, I had this romantic image in my head of tours through the chic streets of Paris, trying the cuisine and feeling pretty damn sassy… Not the reality which was myself, leading a group of school children through a building site (lots of complaints about ruined white trainers), this street where you don’t need to pick up dog poo apparently (further complaints about ruined white trainers) and an underpass dedicated to the self-made shelters of the homeless (health & safety nightmare). I never expected a scenario like it, and I cannot express how thankful I am for the fact we made it through without being mugged of stabbed. *slides risk assessment into the bin* 

I didn’t think we were in an era where people still cooked on barrels? especially corn, in the heart of Paris. I was a little overwhelmed by such a sight. However, it’s not all glamour and cliché shots after all. There is poverty in the midst of wealth and it’s quite shocking really. As much as I did fear for my job and the children’s safety walking through such areas, I think it was a lesson for all of us. 

At the time I was cursing Google Maps for sending us on a wild goose chase around Paris, but now, looking back; we were just seeing the real Paris. 

Have fun out there! 
From Paris,
With love. 

Pipedream xx 

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