Review: Almost Love, Louise O’Neill


This is the third of Louise O’Neill’s books, and I’ve been a fan since a Clonakilty-based relative pressed the ‘local’ girl’s debut, Only Ever Yours, into my hands a few years ago. It was dystopian and brilliant, a modern Handmaid’s Tale, slightly easier to digest. Her second novel, Asking for It, was by contrast harrowingly realistic. Almost Love is perhaps a little slower or less gripping than the last two, but definitely left a much more lasting impression. Perhaps because I saw myself in it a little, and I think – hope, if only to confirm I’m not alone – you’ll see yourself in it, too.

The expression “writes with a scalpel” is one I often snort at, but I feel like I finally understand its meaning. O’Neill slices right into you, pulls out the least desirable parts of yourself and shows you them on a page without apology or censorship. It’s as unsettling as it is reassuring.

Almost Love pins down, in a way I most recently experienced with Donal Ryan’s All We Shall Know, a complex female anti-hero. Unheroic, often nasty behaviour is portrayed from the point of view of the perpetrator who isn’t simply a villain. The behaviour isn’t defended but the emotions surrounding it are described with startling accuracy – the feelings we all get when we know our behaviour isn’t right, like cutting words during a fight or failing to be there for a friend. We aren’t shown a character we particularly like, but one we understand.

The plot itself is fairly simple and carries an innate Irishness. In particular the Irish parent – traditional, stoic, unfailingly supportive but at times a little lost – is as carefully and accurately portrayed as in Asking for It and Walsh’s writing, as well as many of Maeve Binchy’s classics. It is a character I love fiercely, and seeing it done justice feels very special indeed. Irishness also comes across in Sarah’s ambition, that longing for ‘more’ from life, and the confusion that surrounds it.


I was not able.

Almost Love follows Sarah’s journey from (generic Irish countryside) to art college in Dublin, where she is held back by a lack of confidence in her work and self-comparison to prodigies around her. She turns to teaching – a familiar option for many Irish young people – and this leads her to meeting Matthew. They begin seeing each other in secret – something about him being rich and well-known, and the father of a pupil, which at the time all seem valid reasons.

We join Sarah about a year on from the breakup of this affair, which ends frustratingly as it was never a “real” relationship, and the story is told via flashbacks to illustrate the impact it is having on her new relationship and indeed her life.

I found this an interesting and important book, given I am someone who doesn’t often realise or admit the emotional impact things have on my life, and the flashbacks – though at times a little halting and confusing, but then I was reading it at 4am – illustrate that our past can impact our future more than we might think, and for longer. The crushing, dramatic grief that I have always seen as a waste of resources, the questioning of every action during a relationship, and the mild confusion, surprise and discomfort when a new partner treats us with kindness are just a few elements O’Neill shows harshly and openly, and which hit home in an excruciatingly familiar way.

While the book is purportedly about “obsessive love”, I’d like to cut Sarah some slack here because I think what is actually illustrated is how easy it is, through social media and an increasingly connected world, to become an essential part of someone’s life and leave a much larger gap upon exit. We are not solely left on Sarah’s ‘side’, but to question where responsibility lies here.

We are also left questioning the way relationships are changing. Is increasingly casual sex or the non-relationship really liberating us, or forcing us to become comfortable with situations we might otherwise not want? Are we being made to compromise? O’Neill offers no answers to these questions, precisely because there are none. She just poses. Are we blaming the woman for not resisting the advances, or the man for not being more sensitive to the impact of his actions? Is either to blame? Is there a hero, a villain or a misunderstanding? I have certainly met a version of Matthew – who didn’t even have the decency to be rich and successful – and I imagine many of my friends have, too. Portraying such a familiar situation perhaps helps us identify the grey areas O’Neill creates in an era where life itself seems to be becoming more of a grey area.

The main question I took from the story, aside from the main plot, was “who can make art?” On top of Sarah’s issues with her love life there is a much longer-standing one of the anxiety over creating art. Is there any point in creating if others will always be more successful? Is creating a waste of time when you should be earning money instead? Is creating something that should only be done for others, or is painting alone in a shed equally fulfilling and justifiable? And that old cliché, if you can’t do, should you just teach? This inward conflict, particularly for someone from Sarah’s background, is an interesting and painstaking one, and a crucial subplot which I think will be relatable even for those readers who haven’t experienced the kind of “almost love” which makes up the bulk of the story.

For that reason, I would say that while less lively than some, this book is incredibly important. Not the kind of important your English lecturer would say you “simply must” force yourself to read, but the kind of important that will feel effortless and still offer some perspective along the way.


As a postscript, my increasingly woke 62-year-old mother wants to read the book “so I can understand my daughter’s generation and their view on things”. While I am over the moon about this, I now speak directly to Louise O’Neill: would you ever write a version with a bit less penis in it? Thanks a mill.


Review: Girl Zero, AA Dhand’s second crime thriller

Detective Harry Virdee is back. I was given his first iteration, Streets of Darkness, on work experince at Penguin, and it was my intoduction to crime fiction. I now find it an easy genre, and I don’t mean that in a snobbish way: it was a relief after three years studying literature and being told everything had to be scrutinised to the enth degree and if it didn’t have a political purpose or you couldn’t write twelve pages on its semicolon use versus that of the dash, it wasn’t worth reading. Something that gripped me from the start, then, in which the pages seemed to turn themselves and the story combined bringing me along with it and occasionally shocking me to standstill, was ideal to help me enjoy reading again. There was light at the end of the bookworm tunnel.

When I heard the second book, Girl Zero, was out, I snapped it up. Streets of Darkness had finished with things fairly tied up but not quite resolved enough, so that you had to find out whether the city and its people could truly be saved – and I must say, Girl Zero finishes in much the same way.

Dhand introduces us (especially my very white, very middle class, very Nofolk and Offaly self) to the streets of Bradford with all the class and racial tensions present in an almost forgotten city, offering us the perspective of Virdee, a British Sikh man with Asian heritage, who has married a Muslim woman. Neither family speaks to them because of this, save a criminal brother with whom Harry has an interesting, essential yet confused, relationship as a policeman needing information. Nobody seems to ask where this comes from, perhaps because if they did it might stop coming. While Streets of Darkness, which introduced us to this enviroment, touches upon this broken relationship, it’s Girl Zero in which this strained and hateful love really comes to a head, as crime directly touches the Virdee family.

I really enjoyed the unfolding of this family plot in particular, as it was something the first book leaves unresolved and skirts over. Even in Girl Zero, Harry’s wife Saima contemplates the fact that she too has been cut off from her family, but this is left as an aside which I am hopeful will be touched on further in the third DI Virdee installment.

The book and its events (including, without spoiling things, all the drugs, sex, kidnapping and religious conflict one may or may not expect, depending on ones knowledge and interest in such matters) are certainly melodramatic, with the city compared to Gotham and certainly all the men in the book out to prove themselves in the most violent way possible and “rule” the city – while the women’s melodrama remains in most cases pretty firmly based on religion and revenge on men. This would have been insipid if the book took itself too seriously, which fortunately it does not. The “streets of darkness” are juxtaposed against Harry and Saima’s family life at home where the detective struggles to maintain a bubble, safe from his work and all it entails. In some of the most heavy moments, the book will snap you back with a light, humorous comment – “you love all this macho shit, dont you” – so any boys-being-boys that might have spoiled it for me is counterbalanced nicely.

It was also very interesting to be put in the shoes of someone (albeit hammed up and dramatic) who is at the centre of a conflict between two Asian religious families in a town where the battle lines are drawn between Muslims, Sikhs and – I won’t say Christians, but certainly white working class people who can’t figure out what their city has become. I cannot comment on the reality of the situation, but it has certainly opened up my eyes to finding out. I went to Catholic school (which in Ireland is just referred to as school), and knew maybe five “foreigners”, of which I, having been born all the way over in England, was one. I now live in Norfolk which isn’t exactly a patchwork quilt of cultures either. This dramatic introduction offered by Dhand, then, has prompted me to take a look at how much of what he paints is based on issues people are facing every day, and those which are ignored by the likes of me who would rather not think of them.

In summary, if you’re looking for an easy read on the train, a literal ‘page turner’ so you’ll be at your stop before you know it, and after which you continue to flick through imaginary pages past the back cover in the vain hope you can stay coccooned in the warmth of Harry and Saima’s home while waiting for events to unfold outside of it, I’d certainly recommend the DI Virdee series, which is set to release its next installment on 28th June (near my brithday). That is, if you’re quite happy that every single gross and bad thing you don’t want to hear about on the news will be discussed at length, and you may be made aware of situations you were otherwise sheltred from. Perhaps if this were the early twentieth century, I would be warning ladies against reading it as it may shock them. But in 2018 I strongly advise you all to get stuck in.


Nobody cares about you – and other reasons why the gym isn’t scary

I’m thoroughly bored of this snow. As I draft this post on Saturday evening, I contemplate my now almost prior belief that snow is a gift from the universe – or perhaps God, or a deceased relative – to send us the message that we need to slow down. Take a break, says snow, as it glacially flutters to a soft landing in a relaxed manner that at any other time would irritate me with its aimlessness. You’ve done quite enough for the moment, it assures us listlessly. Chill.

I still believe this, but I don’t want to “do” the snow any more especially as it turns to slush. In town today I wore trainers which are the “grippiest” shoes I own, in the hope of battling the ice outside my house. But moving further in to the town centre, at 2mph which is the speed Norwich seems to move at, because nobody seems to have anywhere to go, the inches of well-trodden slush and chunky, grey ice water slowly seeped through the non-waterproof footwear within moments. I picked my way through the still icy streets and impulse bougth five new pairs of socks, fantasising about finally coming home and drying off my poor toes.

So it’s been a day of preparing some real food after the last few days of an unhealthy, minimum effort diet, and attempting to get my life back toegether again. I am a bear blinking my way out of hibernation a day too early becuase I can’t stand to live off the stockpiled honey any longer. I get cracking on the washing up and hooverign whichhave been neglected for days as they don’t involve being wrapped in a blanket and unpack the weekly shop I impulse bought on the way home..

I end up cooking a simple meal which I feel ridiculously overwhelmed with pride about, and laying out my yoga mat to remind me to use it later on – as I won’t unless I physically trip oveer it. This simple act of organisation makes me think about the musing I’ve been doing recently on what sort of adult I want to become – now that I inescapably am one. I plan to write about this at length for anyone who will listen, but today I want to instead talk about a tiny, manageable chunk which happens to be exercise, and has begun to take place at the gym.

All the stars have happened to align for me to start making exercise a part of my life. I should have been doing it for a long time – not least because everyone should, but because my body is one to treasure. Six years ago, I had a spinal fusion due to scoliosis, and I am really lucky to have that behind me. Honestly, I should have done much more to build up my strength after that, but for various reasons (not very good excuses at all) which may beome clear as I discuss the gym, I didn’t. Now, however, I think I can do it. So long as I maintain this gratitude for the metal inside my body that stops it hurting me every day and prevents my lung collapsing, and the inordinate amounts of money, skill and emptional turmoil that went into that, I should stay on track. Because I am so lucky to have this body, as much as I have failed to look after it as much as I should.

Still, several things had to happen before I felt mentally and physically able to make this part of my daily life. At the moment, fingers crossed at least, I am in permanent full-time employment and if you are still not at that stage, I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels. Even though every job has its stresses, to know that you are going to have somewhere to work in a month or two is honestly life-changing. In addition, I’m lucky enough to have a job that allows me to work (roughly) 9-5 and have the entire weekend off. Having that routine has really helped me to plan ahead and know when I can fit that exercise into my week.

Working full time also allows me to feel less like there’s something constantly hanging over me. At school and then university, I always felt overwhelming guilt if I was doing something not directly related to my studies. It felt like a waste of time when I only had a certain amount to prepare for the next exam, to finish the next piece of coursewrok, to search for the next job opportunity. None of my chosen career paths cared aout how far I could run – I didn’t even consider that my physical and mental health actually did directly impact my academic work. Now, however, I can do most of my work during the day, with the odd catch-up on a weekend, and I don’t feel I have to keep it in my head all the time.

At the end of last year I began runnning, using the BBC’s ‘couch to 5k’ app, which I highly recommend and may at one point review. I thoroughly enjoyed it from a beginner’s perspective and liked going for my runs, but as it began to get darker I found going out on my own in the evenings pretty scary, which more or less restricted this to weekends. Now, I can get some of my weekly runs in on a treadmill at the gym – which has been a real learning curve, let me tell you.

I had never set foot in a gym until early this year. As luck would have it, around thsi time I was beginning to enjoy exercise, one of my friends called and invited me to go to a weights-based class at the gym with a couple of other firends. If it had been a message instead of a phone call, I would have read it, talked myself out of it and replied hours later saying I was busy – perhaps she knew this. Instead, I said yes on the spot, booked, and panicked about it later.

The class tunrend out to be great. I had nightmare flashbacks to my secondary school PE teacher Adolf, shouting at me becausee I was too stupid to catch a ball. But the first class went so well and the instructor was so suppotive without singling people out that I was keen to go back and try again. A weights class also enabled me to physically feel myself getting stronger and involveed visible targets to work harder each week – though obviously due to my spine weights are something I have to be careful about. But not quite as careful as I have been, i.e. by not lifting any.

So I’ve joined the gym and have gone to more classes as well as using the facilities by myself for almost two months now, and I haven’t felt pressured or inadequate in any way. At the gym, I can go in and see myself improve every week, and don’t feel like anyone is telling me I’m crap – myself included.

The main reason going to the gym has been a success has been a mantra I use in my everyday life to stop myself feeligng self-conscious, but which I struggled to translate inot the gym at first. Honestly though: nobody in this world really cares about what you’re doing. This doesn’t mean that nobody would piss on you if you were on fire, I just mean that everybody is too busy going about their day to be staring at you. When you walk down the street, are you thinking about your destination or about what everyone else is wearing, or how much they weigh? Perhaps I’m a bit self-absorbed, but if you take evryone else to be, too, you won’t feel so self-conscious. People have taken time and money to go to the gym and achieve their goals, not to waste that by looking at how much you’re lifting or how fast you’re running or how quickly you get out of breath. It’s not an unreaonable fear but after one trip you willl be aware it’s not true.

Going to the gym also means seeing people of all different shapes and sizes: tiny, overweight, muscular, or normal sized with a few lumps and bumps like me. I attend classes with tiny 50-odd year old women (who are much more capable and felxible than me!) and run on a treadmill beside people with more weight to lose than me, who may well be at the gym trying to lose that weight (though you can’t of course solely judge someone’s health on that). Nobody is worried about your ability or theirs, because the whole point of going is to improve. Everybody is focussed on their individual goals and a gym isn’t anywhere near as elitist as Instagram stories often make them seem. Meeting all sorts at the gym soon makes you realise exercise can be for everyone.

The equipment isn’t that scary either, and most gyms offer an induction so you can learn how to use it, but take it from me, who exercises with almost cartoon-like clumsiness and imbalance, you will be absolutely fine. You won’t fall off the treadmill, and after a few goes the floor will stop movng when you get off. It’s quite safe as lonng as you take everything at yoru own pace and ask an instructor to show you if you are confused – they are usually happy to help and used to dealing with people of all abilities.

lastly it does feel a bit of a rigmarole travelling to the gym, changing, showering and fitting all that into your routine, but once you get into the swing of it, a 50 minute exercise class or an hour at the gym really doesn’t eat too much into the evening or weekend – I’m still chopping and changing to see what works best with my timetable. Leavign the house is honestly the biggest faff and the hardest part.

To sum up, after 21 years I am no longer frightened of the gym. This could be the start of a beautful relationship. One you remember you’re an adult and everyone else is too, and that it won’t be like secondary school PE where you’d feel like crying as people watched you change and feel crap as you missed the ball, you’ll be abdolutely fine too. Nobody is going to tell you off once you’re not doing anything dangerous, and if they do you’re entitled to tell them off back.

Anyway, talk to me in four weeks when I’ve cancelled my membership….

How I got a First (NOT how to…) in eight tips

This week I’ve started writing several blog posts from my notebook of ideas, but the pressure was on to find a good “first” post that I could write well and that people would want to read.

Then I heard from a couple of people asking for advice or guidance on how to get a first — and I thought it would be easier to write this as a blog post, and that it might prove useful to people since I sense the third week in January must be where the real world sets in and people are realising “crap, I’ve actually got to do this…”

Here are some tips that really worked for me when I was verging around the 68% mark finishing second year and needed that final push. My degree was Literature and History and I took mainly History modules, including my dissertation, but I’ve tried to keep these as general as possible. I hope they help in some way!

1) Let people know you want a First.


By “people”, I mainly mean the academics in your life. Your tutor, your lecturers and your academic advisor. If they know you are serious about your grades throughout the year, they’ll take you seriously when you come in and speak to them (see tip #2), and will likely go out of their way to help you. It really helps to have these people on your side and make them aware of your ambition and willingness to work hard — you’ll notice quite a few of these tips involve good relations with academics.

I think it’s just really refreshing for tutors who are often met with absences and bank stares to hear this, and it will make them much more likely to help.

Everyone else 

However, it also helps to make family and friends aware of your goals so they’ll understand your ambitions, and offer help and support wherever they can as they know you’ll appreciate and take it seriously. They’ll also understand if you’re not going out as much or want a quiet day to yourself, and honestly one the best things about Uni is that there are plenty of people around sharing your pain during those busy deadline weeks.

It’s also one of the worst things about Uni as everyone is stressed at the same time, but hey ho.

2) Use your resources. 


Again, for me, this means tutors. Ask questions in lectures and seminars if you don’t understand something — and if you don’t want to be that person, ask the tutor privately at the end. You can also reach your tutors by email or go to their office hours. This can be for any kind of question you may have. Remember not to box them into their one subject: they’ll have a lot of great general knowledge in terms of study techniques and essay structure, as well as just life in general.

I think since now students are paying upwards of £27,000 we’re becoming more entitled — but in a positive way — to make as much use of our lecturers as possible.

If you have the chance to hand in any drafts or essay plans absolutely do, whatever state they may be in.

Time spent at lectures 

Another thing to throw in here is don’t just show up at your lecture or seminar, take some notes and never look at them again. This has happened a lot to me and it’s genuinely just throwing away that whole resource. I think the trick here is to write up your notes — I used to type mine up and keep them in a folder — as soon as you’ve finished the day’s classes. Otherwise if you’re like me you’ll forget why you made a particular note, or even how to read your own handwriting.

Resources you may not know you had 

Other resources might include your friends, family, your University’s careers service, the mental health service on campus, your GP, the library, all the journal articles you can access online, bloggers or vloggers (such as YOUR FAVOURITE BLOG right here). It might even include other educational institutes and means to travel. I was lucky enough to have friends to stay with when I visited the Wellcome Library and the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (who are really helpful beans), and did work experience at Penguin — so think outside the box here, too.

Make a list now of all the resources you have a your fingertips and take a look at it whenever you’re struggling so you know just how many places there are to turn. Don’t underestimate anything or anyone.

3) Take advantage of exams.

For me, I am pretty good at exams overall. Chances are, if you passed your A levels/Leaving Cert/IB and got into Uni, you are too!

I found the History exams at Uni surprisingly straightforward. They are likely going to give you the opportunity to share your knowledge rather than catch you out, and can be a boost to your overall grade.

As such, don’t leave them as a last minute panic at the end of the year. See them as an opportunity to gather up some extra marks in a much more methodical way than, say, handing in a complex Lit essay with no idea how you’ve done.

All exams are different but by practising my technique, choosing my topics wisely and remembering 4-5 key points and 3 or 4 key primary and secondary sources each, I found my history exams absolutely fine. Lecturers were also keen to give tips and hints so do go to any study sessions on offer.

However I also know some people who really struggle with exams and as such were able to choose modules which were essay based. This is also definitely worth taking advantage of if you have the option.

4) Decide early 

This is really a part of my personality I think. I like to make a decision and run with it: I’m much more of a “doer” than a “thinker”. Some people will prefer to put a lot of time into finding the right solution whereas I prefer to get going right away and start being productive.

And that’s fine — definitely put thought into your decisions! But when it comes to essays and areas of focus, especially for a dissertation, it worked for me to make an early decision in the year about what I wanted to write my final pieces on. That way, I could attend lectures and seminars looking at them through a particular “lens”.

History students are notorious for picking one or two essays they’ll write and then only showing up to the lectures that cover those particular topics, but I’ve found that actually once you know what you’re writing, you will benefit from most of your lectures as they’ll be related in some way, even if just for context. It’s almost as if they don’t design and approve these courses by accident!

5) Make tough decisions 

Getting a first is a decision in itself. Is it something you really want to do? For many people, it can be a relief to find out a First is off the table as they can then develop their extra curricular activities and maintain their solid, impressive 2.1 while looking at job opportunities. I’m not saying you CAN’T do it all, but it’s bloody difficult.

So the first thing is to decide if you’re going to push for a first. Once you’ve decided, it may well be a case of dropping some extra curricular activities. My grades started to flag in second year and I broke up with my boyfriend — this wasn’t the sole reason obviously, and I’m not saying you should be that extreme, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t help.

It’s important to be involved in societies and have some relief from academia, but it may be good to just focus on one. Between second and third year I dropped working on the student newspaper but still ran my own publishing society, which really helped the balance.

Over the Easter holiday I did two week’s work experience in London which was amazing and has really helped me career-wise, but since that was 50% of what most people were calling Dissertation Time, my dissertation certainly suffered. I would 100% do it again, but it’s important to remember you’re not a machine! Shortly after this I developed some pretty severe tonsilitis…

6) Turn up 

I’m afraid I’m talking about turning up to seminars and lectures here.

Honestly the more your lecturers get to know you the better, and although marking is anonymised by the time you get to third year, with smaller modules they’re likely to know if its your work they’re marking and will even subconsciously be aware you were someone who put in the work and turned up each week.

If you absolutely can’t go, email your tutor explaining why you can’t make it. That’s really just good manners.

7) Speak up. 

When I started Uni I thought that everyone in my seminars was so much smarter than me. I felt really stupid and didn’t like to speak up in seminars but gradually I would ask questions and tentatively suggest meanings or answers to what we were reading.

It tuned out that I had more insight than I thought. Even if I got things wrong, they sparked discussions or helped me to understand. Definitely speak up in seminars, even if it’s to say “I really don’t get this” as chances are other people are NOT cleverer than you, they’re either bluffing or learning from what you have to say.

PS. if you do sit in silence in a seminar and force others to do all the talking just because of laziness, YOU are the true spawn of academic Satan.

8) Enjoy.

This may sound ridiculous, but it may be the last time ever you get to totally absorb yourself academically in a subject you’re interested in.

It really does help to let yourself be interested in the subject, to try and become a bit of an expert or enthusiast instead of just tying to hit the word count and use as many sources as possible.

I truly believe this improves the quality of your essays. I found a marked increase in my third year as by then I was studying things that really fascinated me, and I would definitely say my dissertation was not the most comprehensive or even coherent in the world, but it was clearly a labour of love and the fact I’d spent over a year researching and taking an interest in the subject definitely shone through. I really think there must have been a bit of “oh go on then, we’ll give it a first…” thrown in because of this! 


I’ve really enjoyed writing out these tips, and I think they’ve made a fun, if lengthier than intended, first post.  I’ve been feeling under the weather today so I’ve just sat in bed with a cup of tea and typed away. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this! Will definitely be writing more about Uni soon, so if you have any questions or comments, especially any advice YOU would give, let me know! 


Hello world.


Maybe that’s a bit ambitious. Hello, mum and three of my friends.


Welcome to my blog. I intended on starting this to write all about being 21, which I have now already been for about six months… but I suppose New Year is as good a time as any to stop putting things off


I love writing and blogging, and now that I find myself with a day job and somehow with MORE free time than I had as a student, I was eager to start recording and discussing all the aspects of my new job, new flat, new and old friends and various other thoughts on finishing Univeristy,  starting a career, and being part of the generation which is supposedly the biggest scourge on the world since the dawn of time – aren’t they all.


I set up this domain name ages ago (it’s the first time I’ve migrated from Blogger to WordPress so perhaps I’ll let you know how that goes), but went through all the usual insecurities of beginning a new site – which I’ve now done twice before – such as making it look perfect, having witty, insightful yet easy-to-read posts planned and scheduled, spending inordinate amounts of time taking nicely filtered photos and finding that perfect font nobody would actually care about let alone enjoy.


Then I began looking at various other content creators on platforms like YouTube, Instagram and blogs like this, and noted that sometimes they just started by blurting out the first thing that came into their head. And people like me seemed to want to consume it.  I remembered that when I’ve done that in the past it’s gathered some real interest for some reason. Perhaps my natural charm – will investigate this. And more importantly, I’ve loved it. I can’t wait to love it again.


So I decided to start with hello, make this my first post and see what happens. I hope to share, among anything else that may come to mind, articles on my experiences at University, graduating, what it’s like to work as an editor, why I love living in Norwich, and how I plan to achieve anything this year now that Friends has finally been released on Netflix.


I look forward to taking you all along with me, and hope you enjoy reading.