A Perfect Year?

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’ve just woken up from a nap. No, I am not slumped in the corner of a stranger’s living room at a house party, a heady cocktail of drugs and alcohol having hit me hard. I am lying on my bed, curled up under my throw, with my leggings still on because I was too lazy to change once I got home. As you can see, I’m as rock and roll as ever, and havent’ changed that much from last year.


2015 was a time of massive change for me, with a few key events making the biggest impact, as opposed to small things over the course of the last 12 months.

I got an actual, full time job, the kind that real grown ups have. Even though most days scare the crap out of me, and I still haven’t shaken the impostor syndrome that I experience every time someone asks to speak to a manager, you can bet your bottom dollar that I am trying to be the best damned Ass Man I can be.

I surrounded myself this year with people who were extremely supportive and were very good friends, even when I was being a crap friend, which is something that I put my hands up and freely admit to being. It’s on my list of resolutions (more on that tomorrow) so just hang in there, and thank you for being wonderful.

The weight loss that I said I wanted to do for probably about 5 or so years (in reality it’s much longer, but then you have a teenager with horrible body image issues and then it all gets a bit sad) has actually happened. I’ve still got a little way to go, but I’m certainly closer to being happy with the way I look than I have been for a very long time. I promise that I am still good for hugging/spooning duties when such a thing is necessary. Joining the gym was genuinely one of the best decisions I made this year, as not only has it helped me lose weight, it’s also given me time to myself in an environment where literally nobody else gives a toss about what you’re doing, just to work through some emotional stuff in my head. Nobody notices if you’re welling up on a treadmill, and they have built in fans so you can claim any tears as sweat/a side effect of the wind getting in your eyes. Genius.

So farewell, 2015. You were pretty bloody good. Here’s to 2016 being even better.


The Bit On The Side.

There is nothing that will ruin your evening faster than reading the phrase “vaginal peeling”.

Just for the record, I am totally fine and nobody should worry. I’ve just been filling out some of the pages from my Pharmacy Advisor workbook, and tonight I’ve been focusing on side effects and what products are in what.

Honestly, the excitement in my life is absolutely palpable. I won’t moan though, because it’s keeping me busy and that is exactly what I need right now, considering that’s what the majority of next year is going to consist of.


Cosy On Up.

Goodness. It is blowing an absolute hoolie outside, and I couldn’t be happier to be lying in bed, cosy in my dressing gown, pyjamas and slippers, half awake after a very satisfying nap. 

Considering my day started just after 4am, I’d done particularly well to make it to 8:30pm without falling asleep, though I can’t say for certain that I didn’t have a quick 30 second snooze on the bus on the way home, as I was wrapped up in various Winter accoutrements and was very snug indeed. 

For all the grumbling I do about early shifts, which I do rarely (that shift, not the grumbling), it’s actually not bad, because heading home whilst it’s still slightly light outside is really nice, and you have a small portion of the afternoon left to do with as you please. I spent mine choosing to avoid all the post Christmas sales, as I still can’t quite face how busy it is and would much rather do all my browsing online, put a loaf of things into my basket and then change my mind because I “don’t really need them” – the perfect shopping trip, according to my bank.


Banking On It.

Here’s a small piece of advice that I shall bestow upon you, dear reader, for absolutely nothing. 

Don’t go into town specifically to visit your bank on Bank Holiday Monday. They will be closed, and you will have absolutely no reason to be annoyed at anyone but yourself. 

(This did not happen to me, but was a conversation that I overheard today, and thought that said person was an absolute fool. A fool I tell you. A fool. I mean REALLY. The clue is in the whole “holiday” bit of Bank Holiday.)

It’s just started absolutely hammering down outside, so as you can no doubt imagine, that makes me very excited to be waking up at 4:30am for work. Joy upon joy upon joy.


Death Date.

If you were at all curious, if someone were ever to ask me on a date to an autopsy, I’d definitely, definitely have to decline such an offer.

Today was spent as expected, with a morning at the gym (where my face matched the colour of my hair after my time on the treadmill), an afternoon of sorting out dinner and then an evening of veging out on the sofa finishing up Making a Murderer before I have to go back to work tomorrow, and go back to sharing my Netflix account with friends. Heaven forfend that someone spoil the end of a real life documentary.

We’re now heading into that weird post Christmas week where nobody’s sure what day of the week it bus, but is only aware that night will follow day. I think it’s Monday tomorrow, and a Bank Holiday to boot, so that’ll be a real treat.


Be Honest Now.

Considering how late I was to the first series of Serial (shamefully so, probably about five episodes in before I actually got round to listening), I’m hitching myself to the Making a Murderer bandwagon as early as possible.


I saw a few people mentioning it on Twitter, and thought it might be right up my street, given my aforementioned fondness for Serial, but this is on a whole other level. Granted, although I have ample opportunity to binge watch this (thanks, Netflix), I can’t bring myself to do so, because every episode stresses me out like you wouldn’t believe. It’s tricky when you get to the end of an episode (I’ve had to stop myself at the end of Episode 4, in the hope of getting some sleep this evening) and it’s got you sat alone in your living room, alternating between punching the air, and doing an uncanny impression of Kevin from Home Alone going “Oh my God. Holy shit! No way! Oh my God.” to nobody in particular.

So if you have Netflix, can you get watching it so we can discuss it at great length? I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so bar going to the gym in the morning (alright Zoe, we get it. You’re going to a gym. Good for you, but please shut up about it.) I’ve got at least 6 hours to watch the rest of the episodes, so shall be ready to field each and every question and theory you may have, and discuss just how bad fashion in the 80’s and 90’s was.


Christmas Chit-Chat.

Here’s the thing when your family is as small as mine – Christmas ends up being a pretty subdued affair. With no relatives coming from across the country to celebrate with us, we’d ended up doing two loads of washing up before a single present had been touched this morning. Then there’s the complaint that too much money has been spent on gifts, but a nagging feeling that any less care or thought put into said presents would make for an incredibly ordinary day. At least I got my trifle though, even if I had to have two goes at finishing my portion, because nowadays I’m not able to stuff my face like I did several months ago, which is probably for the best.

The biggest tragedy of all today was that we had no pigs in blankets. To say I was upset is a bit of an understatement. It’s the best trimming of all and we were sans them. I’ve half a mind to buy some tomorrow (or just a packet of sausages and a packet of bacon) to to satisfy my once a year opportunity to eat meat wrapped in meat alongside more meat.

Setting an alarm for 6am tomorrow was also pretty unpleasant, it has to be said. Hopefully our Boxing Day shift is going to go by fairly speedily, though I fear it’ll be a busy morning and then an afternoon of tidying that’ll seem like it’ll never end. We’ll see though.


That Festive Feeling.

Just in case you were curious, going to the gym on Christmas Eve is…totally fine. It’s fairly quiet, there’s no waiting to get on any of the equipment, and unseasonably warm weather meant that walking back through town in leggings, a hoodie and a scarf meant I didn’t freeze a single extremity off. 

It wasn’t even that busy in town today, which will continue to surprise me as somebody that works in retail. I didn’t see a single person crying in a queue, I didn’t see a child getting threatened with a last minute spot on the naughty list for bad behaviour, but I did see various discarded purchases whilst I was queuing up in Tesco earlier. There was a joint of beef placed gently next to some highlighters and a chap gave up queuing entirely, putting a bottle of advocaat and two boxes of cheese straws on top of some Pampers nappies. Nothing makes you feel more festive, does it? 

But that festive spirit dissipated fairly quickly when I got a paper cut whilst wrapping presents when I got home. I was a grown up girl and didn’t cry at all, but as a friend said, I’ll get the last laugh when I see said paper getting ripped to shreds tomorrow. You will not win, paper. YOU WILL NOT WIN.


Last (Day Of Work Before) Christmas.

I. Am. Done. 

If I was much more organised, I could say that I’m staying in my onesie until Saturday morning when I’m back at work, but as it stands, I have to go out and do stuff tomorrow, and apparently an oversized one piece isn’t “appropriate” for wear outside of the house. Sigh.

I actually had a really lovely last day, as we hit the targets we needed to, all my customers were lovely being full of the joys of Christmas, but best of all I finally got a chance to wear my green velvet dress. If you’ve been a long time reader, you’ll remember that I bought said dress way back in 2012, and was gutted that it was too small. It may have taken three years, but I couldn’t be more thrilled that I can get into it, especially as it’s really bloody festive.

I might go as far as to say it was a Christmas miracle.  


480 Minutes.

All that stands between me and two days off is 8 hours of work.

Please let them be nice?

I mean, I already know that I’m going to spend a chunk of it on the phone trying to print a receipt from today off, because there are some things (a lot of things) that even I don’t know how to do, and getting a very patient person on the other end of a phone to talk me through it is the only way, but the other 7 hours should hopefully be okay.

I at least got to finish earlier than expected today (because I started earlier thank you, no slacking for me) and get a decent workout in the gym. It was fairly quiet, which didn’t help matters when I nearly fell off the treadmill from laughing too much at a podcast. ZOE FELL WILL NEVER LEARN. Oh God, that’s going to end up on my gravestone, isn’t it? I’m also trying to decide if a morning work out on Christmas Eve before I get my final presents is just too depressing. It may be the only opportunity I get to make enough room for Mum’s legendary Christmas trifle, so regrettably I think it will have to be done. No, I don’t know what I’ve done with old Zoe. I think she got put away with all of her clothes that were too big. She can bloody well stay there though.