05 3 / 2014
Remember in the 90’s there used be a room in your house that was called the “computer room”.
#nah we were posh and called it the study ;)
yup me too we were the poshest
We still call it the computer room… #stuckinthe90s
26 2 / 2014
Reason 15 for living at home past the age of 21 not being a good thing.
Playing referee between who’s fault it was who knocked the mug of tea over and also the correct procedure of cleaning said mug of tea up.
Gosh, aren’t we typically British?
18 2 / 2014
07 2 / 2014
Living at home past the age of 21 isn’t cushy.
Because when they need a hand with something technology wise, who do they call? Me.
When something doesn’t go to plan, who do they blame? Me
Who needs to actually learn to say no and keep out? Me.
06 2 / 2014
Reason for living at home past the age of 21 not being a good thing.
Dad in the morning.
Or specifically my dad in the morning.
He has the best mood you could wish for, whether he’s had 2 hours sleep, 6 hour sleep or 9 hours sleep.
He sure knows how to clear a room.
Breakfast in our house is not a sociable occasion for him.
01 2 / 2014
And the twelfth reason that living at home past the age of 21 is tedious.
Your mum answering the phone to her friend, clearly they’re talking about you and you then hear the dreaded words of “Would you like to speak her?… of course, it’s not a problem, she’s actually at home now… wait a moment and I’ll pass you over to her.”
And then you hear the footsteps coming closer.
And the phone is being pushed in your face.
It doesn’t matter that I have a deadline or anything. I’m just sitting here doing jack shit. Of course, I’ll pass the time with your friend. I have nothing else to do. Not. A. Thing.
30 1 / 2014
"As a joke, Arthur Conan Doyle once sent five letters to five friends that read, “We are discovered, flee immediately”, to see what they would do. One of them disappeared and Conan Doyle never saw him again."
27 1 / 2014
Something that I forgot to add about living at home at my age.
Not being able to have a lie in pass 8 am in the morning. If it’s not the dog demanding to be let out and fed, it’s mum demanding dad to get up and not lie in bed.
What about me?! I want to have a lie in. Just one lie in. Till at least half 8. Let me wake up naturally, please.
22 1 / 2014
I think a lot of people assume that if you’re still at home past the age of 21 it’s because you’re taking the easy route out.
Yet, this really isn’t the case. It’s by far the easiest route. Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of perks. My washing is done and ironed, I don’t have to bother with paying of the bills ( I do contribute though..) cooking is a thing of the past, along with:
Undisturbed time sitting and doing nothing,
Eating when you want and what you fancy instead of being woken at 7 with the question “Are you in for tea?”
Of spreading yourself out across many rooms and not just one, little cubby hole,
A double bed. Sharing a single bed with the family dog doesn’t quite match it,
Having your own connecting bathroom, where you could just roll out of bed semi naked and be first in the queue for the shower,
Making one cup of tea. For yourself and yourself only. Not like now when you do the tea run for all your family, your neighbours, your friends of friends, your friends of friends of friends.. you get the drift,
Leaving my shoes whereI I take them off. Instead of them mysteriously finding their way to inappropriate and hazardous places in my cubby hole,
Privacy when opening your post, instead of being asked “Who did you have post from?”
The silence of not owning a house phone, or a house phone that is not plugged in. Instead, listening to the dog howl as another, long, garbled and tedious answering machine message is left.
Having your cubby hole exactly how you want it. Instead of coming home to a “I’ve cleaned your room for you,” No, Mum. Just stop right there. I’m grateful, yes to a degree I am, but please. Doing that and then saying that, makes me feel like a 12 year old. It really does. I’d rather have a shit pit for a room, but at least it’s my shit pit.
19 1 / 2014
I’ve just finished reading One Hundred Names by Cecelia Ahern. Usually her stories, apart from Where Rainbows End, are a little like getting in a warm bath. Nothing special. Nice and comforting but after while you get a little bored and want to get out and dried off.
Anyway, this one I expected the same but I didn’t get it. It’s clever because it’s about writers and finding that perfect story.
And examines how when looking for the most extraordinary stories you don’t have to look in extraordinary places. In fact, they’re closer than you think. They’re with the people who are on the bus with you, or in work with you right now, or pass you in the street, surround you in the supermarket.
Everyone has an story that isn’t boring or uninspiring but completely the opposite.
Which got me thinking for myself. What would my story be?