Two years ago peroxide became one of my loving friends, some moments it seems like the harsh chemicals have seeped into my brain. Today I had the blondest moment of my life so far - some may call it borderline stupidity.
From my last post I reviled how I am now finally employed, and this morning required a 6:00am start as I had training and an exam for my new job. Packing my bag the night before, I woke up with a nosebleed (not that this has any relevance), had breakfast and boarded the 7:43am train - a time the majority of the UK is still fast asleep on a Saturday morning.
My training was at a swanky hotel in the centre of Nottingham and started at 9:00am. By 12:00pm we had been lectured at and took a series of notes, then it was time for the exam. Before we could sit the test we had to have our documents checked, having packed the night before I put my passport, bank statement and payslip snug in my bag. When the time came for these documents to be checked, I only had my passport and payslip. As you can imagine, my mind went into overdrive, part of me thinking I was going mad - ‘did I really pack the night before?’, ‘Where the hell did I put the statement?’. Tipping the contents of my bag on the desk I rummaged through everything, every pocket, I even considered removing the lining with scissors, but there was no sign.
The misplaced bank statement meant I couldn’t sit the test, and would have to wait till 5:00pm for the next exam. I had to go and let my doggies out, meaning I had to travel all the way home again, and all the way back. As I sit on the platform waiting for my train home, I decided to read some of my book, but what’s this? Yes. The bank statement.
So you see, we all have blonde moments, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But it’s highly embarrassing.


The imagination is a powerful tool, it is what artists use to create art, musicians to make music and writers to well, write. For some, there are those who are lucky enough to make money from their vivid imaginations.
Summer, for some Uni students, is a nightmare, especially when you finish as early as I do. I think Journalism is the only course at the University of Lincoln that doesn’t get a reading week, this means that whilst the majority of the Uni essentially has a week off - the journalists are in the newsrooms working hard! But, this does mean that we finish a lot earlier than everyone else. 