Tinder Tales - Spanish Edition

Ahh Spain. The land of sangria and salsa, siestas and paella. And fuckboys. Don't forget the fuckboys. 

One of the (very few) things I've learnt about men here is a Spanish mans version of flirting is far from an English mans perverted grab of your butt on the dance floor in a club. Instead, they basically act like you're the actual love of their life and propose to you, be that on the spot or via tinder. They shower you with compliments and promises and although that's amazing for all of five minutes it starts to feel rather insincere and actually pretty damn annoying pretty quickly.

Well, with the exception of this guy 

Nice Carlo mate, nice.

My dates here in Spain have been even MORE colourful than those back home, believe it or not, and have provided my friends with many a good cackle. And I hope they will do the same for you. 

I will start with a more recent one - this was with a very pleasant young Colombian man who I met on tinder. Being an au pair, I only get my free time at the weekends, and because of this and the fact we both had plans for the few weeks after we'd started speaking, it took us almost 2 months to meet for the first time. He was very persistent and he went to a lot of effort. He found a lovely wine bar hidden away from the centre of town, and (apparently) ordered in several bottles of pretty fancy pants wine. (I say apparently as you can never be sure what's genuine and what's been said just to swoon you with these Latinos 🙄). We had a lovely evening, good conversation, lots of laughs, and he ended up inviting me to his apartment for a salsa lesson - NOT an innuendo, for an actual salsa dancing lesson, he was trained in it!

During the taxi ride, I unfortunately took a turn for the worse and instead of giving me a salsa lesson the poor guy spent the rest of the evening locked outside his bathroom while I was throwing up all the lovely fancy pants wine he had ordered in for us. Whoops!

I don't know if this next one counts as a date - however it definitely does count as a hilarious story that made all my friends die of laughter. So it was a Saturday night, and I went out to a nightclub with a couple of friends. Over the course of the evening I met an English guy - this was unusual for the club we were in as it was full of locals and not tourists, so I got super excited to spend some time with a fellow Brit. It turned out he lived here, so after an evening of dancing and chatting he asked if I wanted to go to his for a few drinks. In my oblivious, slightly drunk and overexcited state I accepted, so off we went. Everything was going great, we were both laughing, having fun, we had some beers and put some music on... And then out of nowhere, after the upbeat dancey chart music we had been listening to, a sad song came on. I was obviously not prepared for this and I inexplicably started to absolutely bawl my eyes out crying. Initially when he asked if I was crying I insisted that no, I was in fact allergic to something and when he asked what I just screamed 'I DONT KNOW'. Poor guy probably thought he was getting lucky and instead got a drunk girl crying on his sofa. Bet I reminded him why he left home! 

Again, this next one isn't an official date, but it alllllll began on my birthday. I believe one of my girlfriends and I had started drinking at around 1pm (it was my fucking birthday stop judging me) and by the time it was the evening I was so inhebriated I almost smashed an enormous mirror upside-down-twerking in the hotel room my sister had got as my birthday gift for me and my friends. So, you get the idea - the party was getting wild. We went to a club with our friend who was a promoter and I remember very little about the night - unsurprisingly. 

I woke up the next morning not in my hotel room with my girlfriends, but at our other friend, the promoters house. Turns out I'd lost everyone and this poor guy had had to take my drunk ass home. I frantically patted myself down when I realised I was in his bed and was relieved to find I was still fully clothed. 'Oh god, what a good friend, what a gentleman' I thought. Turns out the actual reason he hadn't tried anything on was because I was sick on his bedroom floor. Classy as fuck I'm sure you'll agree. We cool though, he's still a friend to this day (although I have no idea why he wants to be!)

I went out with a French guy a few months ago now, who over the course of the evening decided to tell me how every woman he goes out with just falls head over heels in love with him and also proceeded to laugh about the fact he's cheated on every girlfriend he's ever had. I don't even know what more to write about this date other than the fact that after this he was actually shocked when I didn't want to see him again... Seriously though?? SERIOUSLY??? ****internal despair****

The last actual Tinder date I went on was a local, from Barcelona. He seemed cute, funny, successful, so I was pretty pumped to meet him. He met me at the metro station and told me he needed to go to the supermarket. For the date I'd told him I would cook dinner so I'd assumed the supermarket trip was for ingredients for dinner and some drinks.

WRONG.

This dude did a FULL ASS FUCKING SHOP, we must have been there for an HOUR while he compared the prices of shampoo and conditioner and laundry detergents. The shop he did was so big I ended up carrying THREE BAGS OF SHOPPING BACK TO HIS FLAT. Fucking heavy ones too. Then I cooked him dinner and when I asked if he would chop some garlic for me he said no. Literally no. ERM THAT IS THE LEAST YOU COULD DO AFTER I CARRIED YOUR FUCKING SHOPPING HOME FOR YOU MATE. And then after dinner he made me give him a back massage because he'd had some sports competition or something that morning. I think he thought I was actually his wife. Or a slave, I'm not sure which. (All jokes aside though, we did end up having a pretty good time, although I'm not sure why or how 😂)

That's not even all of them, there are more believe it or not, and they've all been equally enormous shit shows. My dating life as you can see has just become more material for a comedy sketch show in Spain than it already was at home. But as I've said previously, if I was in a successful functioning relationship - first of all I'd probably be very bored, and secondly I'd have nothing to write about! Every cloud and all that! 

Happy tindering peeps, and happy adulting! X

Poo year

I don't think January is really anyone's favourite month. Christmas is over. Which means you're probably fat. And poor. And unlike everyone on your Facebook you're probably neither engaged nor expecting a baby (although I personally won't complain about the latter)

New Years is also over, which means you're probably still hungover on the 3rd of January, likely woke up with a stranger in your bed who was well below your normal standards, and you still haven't been to the gym or eaten a single vegetable yet. Or, if you're me, 7 of your mates flew to Spain where you now live to spend New Year's Eve with you and you came down with the flu / a chest infection / the plague the day they arrived and spent New Year's Eve in bed sweating and crying while they drank tequila and practiced their fake orgasms (true story). 

Personally, my Christmas and New Years didn't really go to plan at all. Like a lot of people's actually, away from the glossy perfection they upload on social media. Now don't get me wrong, Christmas and New Years are wonderful and magical, like any other time you get to focus all your energy and love on the people who matter most to you. But there's a lot of pressure on these two days to be perfect, and they rarely are. Plus there's a big anticlimax when it's all over and you have to wait a whole year to do it all again. 

I always try to be a positive person and usually I'm pretty fucking good at it, but at the moment I'm just feeling a bit deflated and a bit naff. And do you know what, that's ok. And it's ok if you're feeling a bit naff to, because your a human being, and despite the fact you're supposed to magically turn into Beyoncé at the strike of midnight on the 1st of January every year doesn't actually mean you're any less entitled to be a fucking human being. 

You can still have the best year ever if you take a week to get over your hangover after New Years Eve. You can still have the best year ever if you've gained 3 stone in chocolate and wine weight over Christmas. I can still have the best year ever even though I've spent the first 3 days of the year in bed coughing so hard I genuinely think I've broken all my ribs. Don't rush ya self, forget about the pressure to make 2017 'your year' and just be kind to yourself. It doesn't have to be perfect from day one. We got 12 months of this ish to make some magical shit happen y'all. Look after yourself, and your body and your mind (I strongly suggest going vegan *shameless plug*) Then look after your family and your friends. And good things will come.  Then this will be your year. 

And hey, if I'm going to be positive about being sick over New Years - I probably saved myself from shagging someone I shouldn't have, I didn't spend any money, I've actually lost weight and I haven't had a cigarette for 4 days! Killin' it!

Now go do some shit that makes you happy, whether that's going to the gym or drinking a bottle of wine, whatever, I'm not here to judge. Have a wonderful 2017 friends. 

Happy adulting x

Spanish Stuff: Volume 1

Happy 1 month-iversary to me and my new love, Barcelona. It's going well, I think we are going to last. Just thought I'd fill you all in on some stuff I've noticed and / or learned about Spain and the Spanish culture so far, in case you are coming here, or just want a good bloody laugh, because some of it is hilarious. 

Firstly, they drive on the other side of the road. That's quite apparent pretty much as soon as you get here. You probably knew that already if you're not a retard like me. But when you've been here a month and you still try and get into the drivers seat instead of the passenger seat literally every day, you start to look pretty stupid. 

If you've never heard a Spanish family have a full blown conversation, it sounds pretty much exactly like the Eminem song 'Rap God' when he's doing the super super fast bit. There's no way an English person will ever be able to keep up so my advice is just smile and say 'Sí'. It's served me pretty well so far. 

When writing in Spanish, accents are very important. 'Si' with no accent actually means if. Not yes. Also año (year) with no accent means anus. As in arse hole. Watch out for that one.

Spanish men are soppy as fuck. Your tinder will just be full of kissy faces and heart eyes emojis. This is not my cup of tea, I'm English and am used to dating men who use 'banter' as an excuse to be  utter cunts. If I can't moan about how much of a prick you are to my girlfriends I'm not interested. Although sometimes their names are hilarious... 

Lols. 

Also I highly reccomend South American men, and there are no shortage of those here. Why do I reccomend them you ask?? Weeeellll I'll just leave this chart here.... 

I'll say no more.

If you're a low key alcoholic or an asthmatic smoker like me, then Spain is literally heaven. 50g's of tobacco is EIGHT MOTHER-FLIPPING EUROS, and you can get a 12 pack of beers for €2.85. I'm never coming home. 

Sangria hangovers literally feel like Satan hammered his way through your skull with a butter knife, took a shit on your brain and left a gaping hole in your head. Don't ever drink it for 14 hours straight (guilty). I've watched them make it and there is like 3 tablespoons of sugar in every glass . You've been warned.

If you go to the beach in Barcelona, you will be harassed every 30 seconds by people selling beers and blankets. DO NOT BUY THE BEER. I've heard a rumour they keep it in the sewers at night when they're not selling it - VOM. And if you do want a blanket, we managed to haggle a guy down from €30 to €7 so don't get ripped off. (We still didn't buy it, it was just for bants) If you don't want either of these items, I find screaming 'coño' at the top of your lungs to be pretty effective. Or just say 'Tengo un cochillo' quietly and I imagine they will leave pretty abruptly. 

Spanish people shout at each other a LOT. Don't be alarmed, this is just how they communicate. They're usually not having an argument, but sometimes it's hard to tell. 

Spanish people think English people are all alcoholics. Although in most cases this is true, try not to start bar fights or vomit in the street - athough this is normal and socially acceptable behaviour in London, it is not here. Weird. 

Spanish trains are by far the most bizarre 

I've ever encountered. Sometimes they just don't turn up. No announcements, they just never come. There are no boards showing the next trains at most stations outside the city, and a lot of the trains have no announcements on them either. And if you're sitting anywhere that isn't exactly in the middle of the train you will rarely see the station name when you pull into the platform. I have panicked several times and just guessed where to get off. It has usually been wrong. 

They also don't have bridges to cross over the platforms, you literally just walk over the tracks. Health and safety at its finest. 

Back to the positives - this is a place where my sleeping schedule is perfectly acceptable. I can sleep in the middle of the day with absolutely no judgement, because everyone else does it too. God bless you siestas <3

And finally, EVERYTHING on Spanish TV is overtly sexual. I was watching some Spanish sitcom with the 9 year old and 11 year old girls I au pair for at about 7.30 in the evening and someone threw an enormous pink dildo out a window which proceeded to hit a pedestrian on the head. There's an enourmous billboard we pass on our way into Barcelona that advertises a sex toy warehouse and condom commercials are on in the middle of the day. None of that is exaggerated for comic effect - it is very bizarre coming from a land where my mum still thinks I'm too young to have a boyfriend at nearly 24 and if someone so much as kisses on TV while you're in the same room as your family everyone becomes visibly uncomfortable. But hey, I ain't complaining. My crudeness fits right in! 

This will no doubt be volume one, I'll keep y'all updated with the weirdness and wonderfulness that is the Spanish culture.

Happy adulting peeps X

Veganing

It's almost been exactly six months to the day since I made the decision to go vegan. I didn't do it in stages, I did a full 360 overnight, from the girl who ate McDonald's and KFC three times (OK four times) a week to a fully plant based diet. You'll all be very shocked to hear I have not made a single slip up in those whole six months. No drunk nights out where I had a nibble on someone's burger. No secret snack on a bit of ham. Well, no conscious slip ups - the only slip ups I've made were accidentally eating fucking milk proteins which are in EVERYTHING - one of the things I accidentally ate that contained milk proteins was fucking vegetable flavoured dried couscous - come on!! (Oh and the night I thought I had broken my ankle my mum made me a cup of tea and in her state of panic about my ankle accidentally put milk in it, and In my state of panic about my ankle I accidentally drank several sips before realising. But that's it, promise)

I said in my initial post about going vegan that I would write about my experience after the first month, the draft of which I wrote, then rewrote, then deleted and wrote again. I totally put it off in the end. And that was because everything I drafted just came across as so angry. And I'm not angry. The whole vegan way of life is the oposite of angry. It's a lifestyle based around love, and peace. 

The diet change wasn't hard. I actually found it really fun, cooking became a new hobby, and cutting out the majority of what I ate before somehow managed to broaden the variety of food I ate. I know that sounds like total BS - but I was the kind of person who found a pizza place, or a microwave meal, or a take away joint that I liked, and instead of experimenting with different items on the menu or new places I would just stick to what I knew and would have the same stuff over and over again. Suddenly I couldn't have macaroni cheese anymore, or a Big Mac meal. I couldn't even do my home cooked dishes (which was basically one of two meals, either spag bol or chicken stir fry). So I started making soups. One pot pastas. Curries, vegetable fajitas, homemade pizza, salad bowls, vegan burgers, vegan roasts. It showed me I had a talent for cooking which I wasn't aware of before, it showed me how much I loved to cook too. And I've read a few posts by vegans who have said you have to stop seeing food as a luxury or an indulgence and just see it as fuel for your body in order to be vegan. And I have to respectfully disagree with that - one of my biggest pleasures in life has always been food, and I don't want to have to give up that pleasure - and I haven't had to, not one bit. Vegan food can still be rich and indulgent and just as satisfying as any dish you've had before. 

And more than that it kind of gave me a purpose. Yes, I am very dramatic, and yes that is quite a dramatic statement, but I mean it. Every day I feel like I'm living life by what I truly believe and changing the world just a little bit one day at a time. Up to 300 animals lives are saved a year just because of little old me (I know that sounds like a lot, but google it, no shit), and that is awesome. Even the days I'm sat on my lazy butt watching films and not achieving anything visible to anyone else, I have achieved something that's important to me.

It wasn't the diet part that made me angry. (Although sometimes the cheese cravings on a hangover may have made me a little short tempered, I'll admit that). It was the unbelievably negative responses I received. Freak, hippy, the grunt laughs, people telling me there's no way I would last, the 'eew why's', the people telling me how extreme it was, 'why don't you just go vegetarian?'. 

Someone told me they had recently read an article about veganism and how it was 'just a trend' and it would pass. Not only did that person basically tell me they think I'm incredibly shallow and pretentious, but they just trod all over my beliefs, that are nothing but unarguably kind, and quite literally do not hurt anyone or anything. 

How can you argue with 'I don't want any living creature to suffer for my benefit?'. How is there an argument for that? I make a point of not being remotely forceful about my decision. I don't share graphic videos online, and I don't introduce myself with 'hi I'm Sophia I'm a vegan'. I can laugh at a joke about veganism if it's made in good taste and not viscous, I've always been able to take the piss out of myself. I'll talk about my decision if it comes up in conversation or if someone asks why. I don't tell people they're gross and wrong for eating meat. I'm not being aggressive, so people don't have a reason o be defensive about eating meat, but for some reason they still are. 

I like to think that the reason thy are so defensive is because they know that animals being tortured and murdered is wrong but I sadly think that I'm being incredibly optimistic. It's sad to think some people genuinely don't care at all, not one bit. I don't judge anyone, not even the people that don't care, because it's not my decision how they live their life or what food they put on their plate. I can't force them to believe what I believe. It disappoints me, but I can't waste my energy being disappointed for the rest of my life and I have to live with the faith that I'm doing something that makes a positive change. 

The reason I don't judge others is because we are brought up to see the milk and the mince meat and the steaks and chicken breasts on the supermarket shelves as food. We are told where they come from and we know they had to die, but we are conditiond to disassociate the lives of the animals with the food on our plates. The reason I don't judge them is because I dissasosiated that food on my plate with the animals that suffered for 23 years. We are told it's just the food chain. The same as lions that hunt in the wild. 

But the difference is we aren't creatures in the wild hunting out of instinct. We are creatures with consciences, and the intelegence and resources to find alternatives and make our own decisions about what we eat. Please don't tell me we have to eat meat to survive - the millions of vegans living in the world are proof that that is not true. 

Now, if you can educate yourself on exactly how the food on your plate gets there and you are genuinely ok with it, you feel no guilt and it causes you no sadness at all, then although that is not ideal for me personally as it doesn't line up with my beliefs, then you do you. It is none of my business and that's you living your best life. But if you educate yourself fully on how it gets there and you feel any sort of sadness or guilt, please, I urge you, just give veganism a try. It is not as hard as you will think it's going to be. I'm lucky that a lot of people actually have been very supportive of my decision too and said things like 'that's wonderful I wish I was strong enough to do it'. You are. You can do it. And I can promise you, when you can say you live by what your heart truly feels you'll be so much happier, and you can pet people's dogs in the street with no guilt or sadness in your soul. 

I'm not going to educate you, but I am going to encourage you to educate yourself. If you see a video of a dairy cow crying out as her new born baby is taken away from her minutes after birth, or see a bull being hung upside down with its throat slit, then you can tell me which lifestyle is extreme...

I shan't babble on for any longer, but I ask you if you are a non vegan reading this, whoever you are, please think about the reasons you find a lifestyle that doesn't support the suffering and death of living creatures so bizarre. If you don't want to do it yourself, that is fine. But please don't criticise something that leaves no room for criticism. I get no shit for supporting the gay community, for supporting equal rights for all races, for all genders, so why would I get shit for fighting for the rights of creatures with no voice of their own? 

Just some food for thought. 

Happy adulting friends X 

#LifeGoals

I frequently hashtag 'life goals' on Instagram pictures of me pissed with my mates, but obviously (well, I hope it's obvious), I have slightly higher aspirations for my life than to spend it as a drunk girl in a club wearing a skirt that's too short. Although, I'll admit those nights are onehunnit still on my list of life goals (I'm sorry that I'm such a disappointment mum).

#lifegoals (disclaimer - this was taken in 2014 pre me going vegan - My lifegoals no longer include animals being murdered, this pic is just lols)

So I have hella free time on my hands now I'm au pairing, which for the first few weeks I spent doing my favourite thing in the entire world - absolutely fuck all. But as precious and wonderful as that is, it does actually get a bit boring after a while. So I decided to set myself some real #lifegoals. I got a pen and my glorious little shiny notepad (thanks Grace, seriously mate you killed it with those leaving gifts) and I wrote down a list of shit that I want to do and / or how frequently I want to do it. And just looking at it made me feel fulfilled and like a successful, functioning adult. I have things to work towards, I have things to look forward to. Every item on that list is something that when complete will make me feel happy, and / or like I've achieved something. Some are new skills, some are physical things I want, some are just doing things I enjoy more often. And they're all small and super easily achievable, but I know each item on the list will bring me hellllllla happy vibes.

I would never, ever even attempt to sell myself as a lifestyle guru, 99% of my life is just me totally winging it and I'm pretty much always just a gigantic hot mess, but I would highly reccomend making yourself a little list of #lifegoals. When I was in London I didn't feel like I ever had time to do anything like this because I was so depressed after work I just wanted to drink 3 bottles of wine and watch 10 episodes of friends in an attempt to distract myself from planning the murder of any of my colleagues. But there's always time. Stop putting your best life off like I did - my list took me 5 mins to compose (the doodles around the edge of the page took a bit longer) and the goals are all so achievable they'll require next to no time energy or money. Maybe one of your goals is to drink more wine - fucking power to you my queen, write that shit down on your list and immediately go and get yourself a bottle of red from the local shop. Maybe one of your goals will be moving to Ausralia. Might take a while to achieve but give it your best damn shot if that'll make you happy! Think of some stuff, big or tiny stuff, that might make your heart feel a bit more full of smiles because why the hell not.

Just to give you an idea of how tiny these goals can be - one of mine is literally to just drink more water every day. Do 5 minutes on my Spanish app every weekday. Draw some shit. Read at least one book a month. Make my Instagram less shit (sophiabailey93) if you want to follow me :D) One was to get up early and go to the beach to watch the sunrise. How's THAT for a life goal?! Some are bigger, but start small, then it doesn't seem remotely daunting and you still get a feeling of satisfaction when you've reached a goal you set for yourself. 

I read something recently that said 'be the kind of person you want to fall in love with'. I don't know, it sounded kind of dramatic and over the top to me at first but it kind of makes sense. When I'm on the husband hunt, I want to fall in love with someone kind and talented. And I'm trying to be kinder, and I'm trying to discover my talents. I don't want to fall in love with a lazy, angry, talentless, binge eating and drinking lunatic like I was a few months ago thank you. And you definitely attract like minded people, so this be the person you want to fall in love with theory is kind of spot on really. Plus loving yourself is SUPER important so if it helps you like yourself more than that can only be a good thing.

I'm not pretending I have my shit together. I do not. I mistook the doorbell at my host families house for a light switch last week and woke the whole family up at 4am. I'm still a hot mess. But at least I'm now a hot mess with a few goals. Maybe I'll never cross all the goals off my list, but who cares. That's no ones business but mine - and like I said just writing the list made me feel better. 

So if you feel remotely inspired or at all inclined, I invite you too to but yourself a pretty notepad and a cute pen, and write yourself down a few things to work towards, weather it's two things or two hundered, I guarantee when they're out of your brain and into that paper you'll feel a little more warm and fuzzy inside. (Also let me know what your goals are cos in nosy and only have like 7 for myself)

Happy adulting freeeendz x

Bailey Does Barcelona - Travel Blogs

Seventeen days ago I got on a plane with a one way ticket to Barcelona, with a severely twisted ankle, 2 bags of my belongings and just enough money in my pocket to get by. I quit the job that made me lose the will to live every day and moved out of the house I'd lived in with my best friend (and also a couple of total morons) for the last year. I moved away from all the people I love to come and live in a house with a family of strangers who's first language isn't the same as mine, in a country where they drive on the other side of the road and being vegan is an alien concept. It seemed like a huge deal and everyone kept telling me how brave I was and they 'wish they could do something like that'. 

I thought it was a big deal. Countless times I asked myself 'what am I doing' and suddenly the life in London I had been so complacent about didn't seem so bad at all. 'Maybe I shouldn't go' I kept thinking, 'what if something happens to one of my friends or a member of my family and I can't get home in time to say goodbye?'. I cried when I said goodbye to my mum and my sister and my friends (with the exception of my GBF who I just had an argument with instead, but it we wouldn't have been us if that didn't happen (sorry Adam love you) and my group of besties who I just got so fucking wasted with the night before I left I was too drunk to even feel emotion when I said goodbye). I worried about all the nights I would miss out on while I was gone, all the fun they'd have without me. All the memories I won't get to make with them. I wondered if we would drift apart, If our bonds wouldn't be as strong when I got back. And then I got here. I got picked up from the train station by my host Mum, with my two bags on my crutches, got into the car and arrived at my new house for the next few months. 

And it's not a big deal at all. 

I think it's probably the same for everyone who leaves their home town or home country that pretty much immediately you gain a huge amount of perspective. You build all this stuff up in your mind, the what ifs, the maybes, the reasons why maybe you shouldn't do it and why maybe it's a bad decision and it seems like this huge deal, it seems scary and daunting and then you arrive and you're like 'oh. It's not a big deal at all'. You just sort of... get on with it. 

The first thing I've gained perspective on, is how fucking dramatic I am. Even reading back what I just wrote - I'm such a bloody drama queen. I'm two hours away from home. Some of my besties in London are from Australia, they're 22-30 hours away from home. And a last minute flight would cost them thousands should there be an emergency. I met an 18 year old girl here who's from Texas. She's moved here alone at 18, and she's 16+ hours away from home. And I'm pretty sure she didn't make as much of a song and dance about it as 23 year old me who could get home by fucking train if I had to. 

I'm an au pair here, which was a shocking choice of career to those who know me as 'Two Beers Bailey'  the girl who loves to get wasted on a Tuesday night and spent Wednesday morning with my head in the toilet at work after turning up 30 minutes late. And I'm pretty chuffed with my decision, the first two weeks were a breeze, playing with the kids, sunbathing, listening to them speak Spanish and hoping just sitting and watching them will be enough to pick it up (it won't, my Spanish is absolutely fucking abysmal). Easy, I thought! 

Nope. 

Kids aren't easy. Kids are stubborn. Kids don't like trying new food. (Which hurts when you spend an hour cooking lunch and they strut in from school pinching their nose at the smell and refuse to even try it) Kids don't like to do what you ask them. Kids might not like YOU. It's not easy. And that's awesome, because easy doesn't teach you anything. I am stubborn as hell. And when my kids are stubborn I recognise that quality in myself, and being on the receiving end of stubbornness is an eye opener. I would like to publicly apologise to any of my old bosses who might be reading this (Tom) - I am so sorry I was such a stubborn bitch with such a filthy attitude (when I was hungover (so quite frequently)) I realise now you must have wanted to strangle me. I am also sorry to my mum and any other adults who I wouldn't listen to when I was a kid. God bless you for your patience. 

And as well as helping you recognise qualities in yourself, it teaches you new skills, like patience. Staying calm when you'd usually flip. You can't be mad at kids, they're kids. They don't understand things from other people's perspectives yet, that's not their fault. And being able to be one of the people who helps them learn to see things from someone else's perspective is such a magical awesome gift. And having them teach me not to be a furious bitch from hell who has a fuse the length of a candle wick is such an awesome magical gift too. 

When I was in London, working in a pub or a restaurant or my office jobs, and someone foreign would come in and just stand and stare blankly at me it used to really wind me up. Dong get me wrong - I love how multicultural London is, I wanted to stay in the EU, I thought we should have refugees and immigrants in the country, but when I was busy and someone came in to my place of work expecting something and they hadn't had the courtesy to learn how to ask for it in the language of the country they were in it would just irritate me. NOW I AM THAT FOREIGNER. Never again will I get angry at those people, languages are fucking hard. And being in a new country unable to communicate effectively with people is scary and lonely sometimes. It's taught me to be kinder and more accepting. 

And speaking of loneliness, I was terrified about how lonely I might be when I got here without the comfort of knowing my friends were 5 minutes away on the bus, if I needed an emergency meeting to moan about the latest fuckboy who wasn't replying to my texts, or I wanted a hug because I'm a needy bitch. And the first two weeks I wasn't lonely at all, I cherished my alone time. Finished the first book I've read in years (thanks Grace - absolutely spectacular leaving gift!) Got the first tan I've had in 23 years and learned how to say 'I've got a knife' in Spanish on duolingo. Heaven! 

But then the loneliness did set in very mildly as the third week is starting to approach. And that pushed me to do something about it. I reached out to a bunch of people, some other au pairs, some vegans in the city, and now I have a weekend coming up full of plans, with people from all over the world, all of different ages and walks of life. And I'm super excited to see what awesome things they'll all teach me (while I'm pissed on the streets of Barcelona at a massive street party - hell yeah). 

It's so early on in my journey and I'm already learning so much. On the surface I've just been eating, sleeping and sitting in the sun. But when I scratch the surface I can see I've done so much more than that (amazing what a bit of alone time with your thoughts can do. Although don't spend too much alone time with your thoughts if you're anything like me - it gets weird in there). I have this fear that putting my experiences out there in this manner will mean that if it all goes tits up and I have to come home it will be all the more embarrassing because I've made this experience so public. But - thanks to the book I've just read 'The Life Changing Magic Of Not Giving A Fuck' (thanks again Grace) I thought - fuck it. If one person reads this and feels remotely inspired to quit the job they hate and do something fun then it will have been worth writing. And if this country or this experience doesn't work out for me long term, so what. I'll always be able to say I tried, and I've been happier in these two and a bit weeks with less money than I've had in years, than I was for months in my old job and my old life in London.

I urge you, if you're considering making a change in your life, no matter how small or how enormous, just do it. I know you've heard this a million times from a million sources, but just do it. If you're unhappy now you have nothing to lose. And it may seem difficult, and you'll probably build up a load of reasons in your mind why you can't do it. But if an unorganised, irresponsible idiot like me can do it, I assure you you definitely can. Turn off the 'what if' bit of your brain for one second and visualise how amazing that new job, new relationship, new city or new county could be and how much better your life could potentially be. Just give it a go. For me. Plz.

Happy adulting y'all X 

Reasons I like my cat more than you.

Today was Tuesday, which is basically just a second Monday. On top of that, it marks a week since I got back from my glorious holiday and that means I was no longer in beautiful Spain, but instead was at work. It also marks a week since I last ate meat or dairy and I’m having severe cheese withdrawal symptoms. Oh, and it was sunny and at least 14 degrees but somehow managed to snow (its fucking APRIL), and all humans around me seemed to be in arse hole mode (a bit like I am I suppose).For those reasons, I reverted back to not just being a stroppy teenager, oh no, but a full blown toddler and had a tantrum and hated anyone who wasn’t my cat. Not really that different to most days in fairness... Here’s why.

 

1. My cat doesn’t have as go at me for being late to stuff

2. My cat doesn’t make me do paperwork I don’t want to do

3. If my cat had a phone, she would fucking text me back

4. She would probably text me first actually.

5. My cat has not once asked me why I’m going vegan

6. Or called me a hippie

7. Or told me I need psychiatric help for going vegan (thanks Ma)

8. My cat doesn’t judge me for drinking alone

9. My cat doesn’t judge me for being hungover

10. My cat doesn’t harass me on Tinder

11. My cat doesn’t send me unwanted dick pics

12. She only wants to get me into bed for cuddles

13. And when she says cuddles, she literally means cuddles

14. My cat doesn’t ride her bicycle at 0.5 mph in front of my bus when I’m on my way home from work

15. My cat isn’t a 13 year old chav getting mouthy on my bus on my way home from work

16. My cat still loves me with no makeup on

17. My cat still loves me when my hair is dirty

18. And when I haven’t shaved my legs for two weeks(ok, four weeks)

19. My cat doesn’t have a go at me for being messy

20. My cat doesn’t lecture me about my poor life choices

21. My cat doesn’t think giving her a cuddle is flirting

22. My cat likes my singing

23. And she’s fluffy and COOT

 

She does dribble on my face and sit on my phone when I’m trying to use it though. But I suppose nobody is perfect.

I realise this post gets me no adult points. That’s fine, I didn’t want to adult today anyway. I am wanting to adopt a slightly more positive outlook on life though, as I have a tendency to be a bit of a grump and / or jump into panic mode and worst case scenario when things go wrong. However, I will always stand by having a big old MOAN whenever I want to anyone who will listen. It’s free therapy. And once I’ve done it I will be in a better mind frame to be positive – I mean, I feel better already! I’m planning on exercising and starting yoga (really going to help my new vegan hippie reputation) to see if they help with positivity and mood in the way people claim they do. I imagine they’re just going to cause someone of my fitness level pain, and that brings me absolutely no positivity or joy. But I suppose we will see.

Vegan week 1 blog is coming for anyone that is at all interested, but I’m waiting until I get paid so my meals are slightly more exciting than rice and salt. It was all going fine till my housemates cooked roast beef on Sunday – but fear not, I stayed strong. 

Send me pictures of your cats. 

Thanks, 

Happy adulting! x