McDonalds in Paris 

I don’t know how people remain looking chic and glamorous whilst travelling, but I am feeling like a bit of a mess right now. 

I’ll admit that I had good intentions to document Paris through the lens of my Nikon camera, but as the coach was cruising down the dual carriageway at 4am to Ashford; I switched it on to find I had left my memory card in my laptop at home. Classic me. 
Our trip to Paris was booked through a company that supposedly takes the “stress” away from taking groups on holiday during the half term. However, sitting with the luggage; as my seat had been taken, with students dotted around 16+ coaches, is not how I pictured “stress free”. But I love a mishap, as it wouldn’t be a “holiday” without one, right? 

Of course, I had a mini-heart attack when it was time to get off the train as we entered Paris. The 20 lives I have to return safely back to school, were floating further away into the throng of people departing the international station. Alas, we made it to our hotel.
However, I would be lying if I said the Eurostar wasn’t enjoyable. The journey itself was actually one of the most pleasant I’ve had. We cut directly through the French countryside, watching the lull between dawn and day as the villages awoke from their slumber. I have always had a soft spot for France and this seemed to relax my spirits. 
Getting to the hotel was pretty simple (except for needing to be Popeye to lug the overpacked suitcases up a vertical flight of stairs) and Paris was full of the charm that I had previously remembered. But, then my Paris rose-tinted glasses fell off with a smash…

It is not physically possible to seat 20 people at lunch in Paris but this is a completely necessary feature of our trip – eating together that is. After debating many restaurants, only one could possibly prevail amongst a group of teenagers… McDonald’s (when in Rome) which was massively busy and overflowing at the door. The picnic creature, that resides in my soul, decided it would be a good idea to sit in the middle of a shopping centre and eat the said meal, whilst a boy played “fix you” on a piano, really setting the mood.  

It’s been a whirlwind of a day and it’s not even over. But, I cannot wait to sleep tonight in my Hotel room with such an Insta-worthy view. 

Have fun out there!
From Paris (Pipedream),
With love xxx  

Paris Soundtrack

* Jens Lekman – Put your arms around me

* Johnathan Bree – You’re so cool 

* TIEKS – Say a prayer 

* RY X – Bad Love

* RY X – Salt 

* Halsey – Sorry

* Pale Waves – There’s a honey 


To Paris, With Love 

If someone told me in January of this year, that by October I would be co-leading a trip to Paris with 20 international pupils in tow, I would laugh in yo’ face.  
The charming streets of Paris have always had a piece of my heart, especially in the cusp of autumn. However as tomorrow looms, the city of love fills me with nothing but dread. 

A few months ago, I couldn’t even breathe without my mothers assistance, let alone be responsible for 20 human lives, alone. Overseas. 

I am beginning to realise also, how daunting it is to look after such sacred things as passports. They are literally little books of gold dust and as I gather them all together, along with their visas, the whole situation is beginning to dawn on me. 

These little bundles of life and their parents are depending on me (and another member of staff *phew*) to give them a trip to remember… and I have everything crossed  that it’s for the right reasons. 

I cannot deny that I am excited and a little giddy to meander down the riverbank of the Seine, and to see Paris by night up the Arc de Triomphe as I’m a big romantic at heart. But, part of me wonders whether I will actually enjoy the experience as I feel like I will forever be holding my breath because of the possibility of something terrible happening!  *Cynic O’Clock* 

 Luckily I love my job, and the students are absolute joys! But I have a feeling in my waters that this will definitely be a trip to remember. For good or for bad! 

But alas, I will channel my inner Miss.Clavel (Adventures of Madeline) as I set off for the Eurostar at 4am tomorrow and enjoy Paris in all its autumnal beauty 

Have fun out there!

Pipedream xx 

Lady who Lunches.

As I stare at the Michelin Man look-a-like, which is my reflection, in the mirror; something has got to change. *Exaggeration o’clock*  

I am very, very susceptible to weight gain because I am a lazy individual with the mentality of a sloth who absolutely loves cake (brownie in particular) and anything that goes well with bread. My working day doesn’t really leave me much time for a good night’s sleep which then results in me substituting tiredness with sugar and I have 0 problems with convincing myself to “treat myself” in the sugar department. Sweet-tooth-city.

I have always been incredibly insecure around weight gain (like the majority of the population in today’s society) and I know I am not unhealthily overweight, but we are superficial creatures and I look at myself and I am just not happy… However, I am absolutely comfortable with flaunting my imperfections on social media to hopefully inspire others to appreciate themselves but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I pine to look like the women in the articles of Vogue.

I understand that the models in Vogue are a singular perception of beauty, and everyone is beautiful. Period. But Fashion is an art, and art celebrates the “beautiful” or aesthetic and I feel that because those specific body types of women are celebrated so frequently that, that must be the ideal. 

And we are always looking for the ideal.

Over the years I have been round, normal, unhappy, non-eating, frivolous-with-food, content but never happy… Jheez so hard to please.

My new job has changed a lot about me, including the amount I eat. I eat if I am happy, sad, stressed, tired, alongside 3 meals a day and it is impacting my weight (which is obvious). The food itself never really leaves me with much energy or satisfaction, but it provides a sense of comfort and calm. *Can Jamie Oliver and Kayla Itsines enter my life please? I need some guidance.*

I really want to change myself in the pursuit of happiness and a little self-love. I would love for some help, if anyone wants to give me some tips…?

Have fun out there!


Pipedream xx

Clawing Back My Life…

It’s been specifically 49 days since I’ve posted a blog post and this makes me incredibly unhappy. 

Throw me back to August the 23rd when I received a whirl wind of an opportunity, requiring an immediate start, inflicting a massive change into my life; something I thought I needed from the stars for a long long time… 

I had to leave home, learn a new profession and put it into practise within a week of receiving the position and I didn’t realise the severity of how time consuming that position would be, until I realised that the consistently-inconsistent blogger within me was slowly dying due to 0 time and it was making me incredibly unhappy. 

The days rolled on and time dwindled away, and I felt that the old me was blurring into the background, along with the time to wear sassy clothing and bright lipstick. 

Who knew yoga pants and hoodies would be so on trend this fall? 

Because those are the only practical garments I find myself wearing these days…

Now, Im a big follower and advocate of “mum-blogs” on social media. Their time management skills and their ability to consistently upload FAB-U-LOUS content alongside their busy lives is massively inspiring and has made me super appreciative of their dedication to their craft (that’s what it is right?).

I have decided that I’m going to put myself in their power-house-mum-shoes and steam on through to make more time for my posts. *Fist Pump* 
I’m inspired and ready to take hold of my life again. Nobody’s got time for unhappiness! And that was a mood I felt myself slipping into far too often, as old me waved from the sidelines.   

Have fun out there! 


Pipedream xx 

The Best Wedding Guest Dress Review

After being a slave to the Google search engine for a solid 3 months, in the hope of finding the perfect wedding guest dress, looking back at the photos, I made a good call.

I have expressed before in previous blog posts about how I have a weirdly proportioned body, which many big names in fashion don’t cater for (I will clarify that I do understand that mass produced brands have such a hard job at catering for everyone’s figures that I won’t scold them too much for not thinking about mine).

I have the figure of a condensed, tall adult, which is politely saying I’m small and a bit round in areas, with a waist that doesn’t match my proportions. Trying to find a dress to cater for that, left me with a mammoth task because finding a dress online that would fit me, after trying dresses on in shops that didn’t, doesn’t usually bode well. However, online there are a 100x more brands which left me with a glimmer of hope, as someone out there must be prepared for a figure like mine.

To cut a very long, repetitive story short, I settled for a lace number from a brand called Chi Chi London. I am sure a lot of teenagers and parents reading this, who have gone through prom season, would have heard of them. But, if you haven’t, this is a brand that create feminine, sparkly-goodness for a competitive price, in cuts that cater for many shapes of woman.

The winning dress for me, was a midi lace, in pastel yellow with a plunge neckline. Not only did it cater for my waist, complimenting my hips (which I have an aversion with), it offered so much support that I didn’t need a bra. Any excuse to let the girls free, is a good one and as a big-busted woman I felt completely safe that there would be no great escapes or appearances from them during the reception.

The B&W version of this picture looked far more cosmopolitan.

Sometimes lace can be a little limp, losing its shape, which was a worry when I purchased this dress, but after giving it a good steam it survived: a heavy downpour, sitting down for speeches and dancing my life away, remaining beautiful and full of shape.

I received many compliments in this dress and for once, I felt radiant. At the end of the night I didn’t want to take it off, I loved how it made me feel and I wanted to feel like that for a couple more days (I’m not greedy).

I will now forever suggest Chi Chi London.

Have fun out there!

Pipedream xx

P.S. I wasn’t paid to say this by Chi Chi London… Although I wish I was! Aha!




As soon as I set eyes on him, I knew he was the one…

I had spent weeks leading up to that moment comparing cars for sale online (when I say weeks, I mean months, because as soon as I booked my driving test, car shopping was the new shoe shopping). *Eager Beaver Alert* Of course, I was an absolute beginner in knowing what to look for in a first car and a metal bin on wheels would have impressed me. But, I had decided to try and get my noodle (brain) around “car talk” and it made me feel as macho as someone repping knitted cardigans and shoes made of straw, can.

The intentions of my first car was to escort me on my day-to-day commute to work and adventures visiting friends at University, so it 100% needed to be reliable. To begin with I had overlooked the importance of mileage, previous owners, age and other things in favour of price which is a no-no if you want you or the car to survive, but my budget was modest.

Disclaimer: I am in no way saying that an old car isn’t the perfect first car, I am merely saying an old car wouldn’t suit what I wanted out of having a car; if it wasn’t going to be reliable.

After using those over-advertised insurance comparing companies, I had discovered that insurance is an absolute killer on older cars (information relative to my research not actual facts). However, the quotes were a little softer on newer cars from garages which is when my car hunting took a turn.

I had decided that maybe buying a newer car was the way forward… but I never ever thought that that would be something I’d even consider. I of course didn’t have the budget to buy one out-right and I am not too proud to say that finance was my only option, but after number crunching against my salary, I could afford too. I was offered money from relatives but I am one of those people that would rather do it myself; consequences considered.

*Enter Zebadee*

I am a lover of all things vintage and my heart had pined over the original Classic Fiat 500s years prior to passing and looking on all the forums for first cars, their descendants (which you see plaguing the streets today in all their vibrant finery) were up there on the list for being the best first cars.
I had compared and compared again all of the Fiat 500s in the area and the front runner was definitely the little silver number parked in a garage, 2 miles from my home.  I had a little specification and Zebadee fit them all, so I would have been stupid not to pick him (I am aware people have this unspoken agreement that cars are “girls” but Zebadee isn’t, sorry). I have never felt so adult in my life, driving away in my very own first car, which makes me feel a little silly admitting out loud. But, I am in love with my new-found freedom and I am excited for the future and all the adventuring possibilities that I now have.

Have fun out there!

Pipedream xx

Driving Success

This time last year I had uploaded my first ever Vlog on to YouTube which was a result of a list of goals I had set myself before my birthday. I like to use my birthday as a deadline because I am one of those people that has a Life-Plan (I am aware that life is incredibly unpredictable and cannot be structured through a plan) to assess if I am on track, personally.

I really enjoyed making videos for YouTube and people seemed to receive them well, however I found it really difficult to find the time to keep it up and I was a bit of a rambler. No one has time for that. But alas, this year’s goal was to finally pass my driving test. I am going to stress the word finally, not because of the amount of tests it took but because it was something I never thought was going to happen.

I had paid a lot of money for a block of lessons which my previous instructor didn’t seem too enthused about fitting in, he made me feel anxious and a bit stupid but it was his misogyny that didn’t bode well for the amount of time we had to spend together to be “test ready”. Long story short, I got a new instructor. What a pickle. I had taken 5 months out which reverted me basically back to beginners level, leaving me a little more nervous and hesitant the second time around because my confidence had been quashed. Part of me was very determined to pass but the thought of taking a test made my stomach turn.

Surprisingly, the tests themselves aren’t actually as horrific as you think, even if you stall (guilty), have a scary examiner and repeatedly ask if you’re going the right way or not. The thing which was the cause of all my angst, other than accidently killing the examiner, was the verdict. Pass was not the word I ever imagined to come out of the examiners mouth. It was an achievement that secured the idea that I was maybe becoming an independent adult, and the child in me stamped my foot. The last test I took, I felt ready, like it was the perfect time.

The odds were stacked against me to pass before my birthday (the cynic in me felt like it would never happen) as the waiting period for a test was 3 months away (October, ewww) BUT a cancellation did come up and I feel it was all meant to be. I did it YAY! Finally.

Have fun out there.


Pipedream xx

The Perspective from a Humble Retail Work

Today I have decided to write this post whilst I am at the shop. Not because it is particularly quiet but because I am in utter disbelief that certain characters of humans exist and I am surrounded by them. Retail and I have been friends for a solid 4 years and I have worked in environments from Fragrance & Beauty to joyous brides but never have I experienced such pernickety, menopausal, rudeness from a calibre of people in my existence.

It is always assumed when I mention my previous careers that “they must have been really tricky customers to deal with” insinuating that people that buy beauty products and desire to find the perfect dress are somewhat “high-maintenance”. Well my friend they are angels in comparison.

I have the pleasure of working with some of the most beautiful furniture in the UK, and for anyone that knows me understands my love for interiors and all things comfort. However, I have just been under the scrutiny of a gentleman that wished to inspect a glass, looking to find a fault to quibble the price. I am being whole-heartedly serious when I say this, but I genuinely thought he was going to get out the Hubble Telescope from his rucksack; that was filled to the brim, no doubt with articles on customers rights and how he could discount the product further.

I have endured finger-clicking, summoning me like a dog, tutting like an errant child when a product is out of stock and I think I have mastered my pack-horse impression because it is hilarious how people lose the use of their arms when it comes to retail. Now, yes I am paid to deliver a service, but I am not paid to tolerate disrespect or gentleman’s bottom cracks; revealing what that person ate for breakfast. I understand that some of the furniture we offer is made in the U.K. which is relative to the price, but I am not forcing anyone to buy it… and no, we cannot offer a best price THAT IS THE PRICE and if I was Prime Minister I would ban hagglers. As a good friend of mine says, “here is an acorn, you grow the tree, pay for it to be cut down, manufactured and regulated for safety to sell and then see what price you can do it for”. It is a mouthful but it gets the point across.

The point I am trying to make is that the products are just material things. There are situations going on in the world that are far more severe that completely diminish the need for such behaviour towards a cushion that has a fray, a delay in the production of a sofa or any other scenario that requires a stamp of one’s foot for not getting their own way.

If you are a customer today, maybe re-think how you would approach your humble retail worker.

Have fun out there!

With love,

Pipedream xx

I don’t like who I am drunk

Last night concluded the local marvel that is the Hastings Beer and Music Festival. An occasion held every year over a period of 3 days, showcasing an array of good music and beer. I cannot deny that I am not usually a beer drinker by choice, but I think I was partly converted last night or maybe I was just merry and too hot to care.

The Cavaliers closed their set with confetti and joy, and I was in a desperate need for another drink after thrusting my body around in an attempt to dance, consumed by the vast heat of perspiring bodies in a tent.

The night did not end when the music stopped. Continuing until the early hours of this morning; I had drunk far more than I intended, ending up on the curb outside my house trying to gain composure to not wake the sleeping.

I don’t like who I am when I am drunk. I am quickly converted into this demanding, grizzling-mess with a potty mouth and no inhibitions. The dire nature of modern society is, it was all recorded and posted on social media outlets, which makes me want to crawl into a hole and bury myself. There is no gruesome story of me having my stomach pumped or choking on my own vomit, or a tale that is so cringe-worthy that your toenails will curl up into little quavers. I just become the person I don’t want to be… outrageous and repenting in the morning.

I am well aware that when people are united in drunkenness, civility no longer exists. But as I sashay through Sunday with a hangover at work I think in future I’ll leave the wine in the fridge and my wine glass in the cabinet. I intend to give my liver a break along with my social media appearances, intoxicated.

Have fun out there,

Pipedream xx


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