Monthly Archives: January 2011

Therese Rawsthorne ‘Don’t Look Back’ white cotton shirt, Simone Perele ‘Muse’ coral and pearl bra.

There are a few ways to spend a casual Saturday night. Mine was spent couples dressing with two of my very best friends, drinking far too much, drinking something that tasted like a pepper pot had fell in it, discussing the benefits of owning a condo on Mars, being approached to ‘snugglebum’ within 15 minutes of being out (admittedly, not me), finding a guy who looked like he was the hottest jesusesque guy ever, finding out that guy is friends with a douche, avoiding couples, being chaperoned, sitting at tables with drunk strangers and avoiding breaking into a verse of ‘Drunk Girls’ by LCD Soundsystem, achieving everything by midnight.

It was just a casual Saturday, ya’know.


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I spent the end of 2010 killing off the dead weights that were holding me back, chaining me to a past I loathe to give the time of day. They were memories, objects and sadly, people. People who I hadn’t yet learnt were toxic.

So, I did this to all of it…

It was all piled together. Collected throughout the holiday period and mentally organised into a well-stacked bonfire with lots of filling to make sure it burnt right down to an ash so fine it would be near untraceable. What I needed more than anything.

Come NYE, whilst making a punch so pink it would stain your whites far better than any beetroot juice, I prepared myself for my own personal countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…and it’s gone. I was entering 2011 new and fresh. No more making excuses for others poor behaviour, no more getting angry about mindless girls who don’t understand what it means to simply not care. And no more settling for second best.


And I know. We’re only 6 days in and I did say the cut-off for all my negative thoughts of past experiences was December 31st, but it’s happening. They’ve stopped. Bar one small slip to memories of TDD and all his childish, lame excuses which had me bending over backwards to forgive him, I’ve let it all wash past without as much as a splash disturbing me.

So if you’ve played cat and mouse with me for three years and made me drive to Newcastle, don’t bother calling me this year. If you used me to find out intimate details about family friends and then sold me out so you don’t blow your chances when you get caught snooping, yeah you can leave me be from now too. Oh, and if you’re a person who sends out people to intimidate me in public for zero reason then you can move on too. Because all of you and your memories are nothing but piles of untraceable ash that haven’t blown into my 2011.


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