I had a driving lesson scheduled on Saturday. All my family were out- my mum was collecting my brothers from a tennis match and my dad was fishing somewhere.

Being the good student that I am, 15 minutes before my lesson starts I lace up my trainers, shut the front door and head out to practice my starts in the drive. 25 minutes of driving in circles later, my instructor is nowhere to be seen.

It is not unusual for him to be late. It is unusual for him not to tell me he’s going to be late. So I drop him a text, and go back to circling the drive. After another 5 minutes I’m getting quite bored, and decide maybe it’s time for me to wait for him inside. And then I realise I’m locked out. Great.

Three quarters of an hour into my ‘lesson’ my dad gets home and my instructor calls to tell me he’s stationary on the M5 and hasn’t had signal for the last 45 minutes.

What a great afternoon.


All these adventures from Porto are the first things I’ve posted about in a while. This is because I had exams. The important kind that will determine whether or not I manage to scrape a 2:1 in my degree. So why, you may ask, was I writing about my life when I had these important things coming up?

There was a powercut.

I sat down to smash out some thermodynamics and the lights went out.

It’s always me.

Before exams I was on ‘holiday’. I put it in inverted commas because I was supposed to be on training camp, but can’t train since my knee is broken. I’d already booked flights, and so had Xe, so we hopped onto a plane to Porto and went to enjoy the sun for a week. Oh the stories that  came from this trip!

I’m going to start by relaying our day in the wonderful city of Porto.

Xanthe had planned out a lovely route for us, which included all sorts of fun tourist attractions. We would get off the bus at a preplanned stop, and the day would go from there.

The first issue we encountered was that the bus we got on didn’t stop at the designated place. We coasted through Porto and ended up in ‘downtown’.

Not to worry though- we had our list of places to visit so all was going to be well! We set off back in the direction we’d come to look for site one on our list- the ‘crazily decorated church’.

Half an hour of walking later we were in the area! The next 15 minutes were spent searching google maps and walking round in circles. Eventually I decided to search for churches near us, and we walked to the nearest one. It wasn’t the right one.

No matter! Xe took over directions again and we set off towards the impressive park. Needless to say, we managed to miss the massive grassy area too. When we did eventually find it, it became very apparent that there was only one entrance, and it was at the top of the huge hill.

Having adequately explored the park (sat on a bench, then almost fell off the big Porto sign) we chose to completely ignore the fact that there wasn’t an exit at the bottom of the park, and went to look for an exit near the bottom of the park. Needless to say, we had to wak back up the huge hill to get out.

Never mind! We ploughed onwards to the wonderfully advertised food market! Trip advisor assured us this was the place to be and that it was really worth a visit. We went. It wasn’t.

That’s ok! Our next and final stop was a famous wine and appetiser restaurant. We took a break to figure out how to get there, where Xanthe promptly informed me that it opened at 3 (it was 1:30) and that the church was actually about 100m away from where we got off the bus.

We changed our lunch plans and had a thoroughly enjoyable meal fuelled by cheap wine, and even managed to successfully find the church! Having actually achieved some of what we set out to do, we thought we should cut our losses and head home. Off we went back to the bus stop.

We waited. And waited. And waited. And then the number 11 drove straight past us. I’m not really sure why, but we thought it was a good idea to sprint after it. So we ran like idiot English tourists down the road in an attempt to flag the bus down at the next stop.

It drove past.

We sprinted some more and somehow managed to get on the bus, which was promptly populated by obnoxiously loud European tourists. Finally they all get off and the bus empties. We arrive at our stop and plod back to the hotel, exhausted by our day of shenanigans. We head into the hotel lobby, and there are the 15 loud European tourists that had filled our bus just a minute ago.

They stole all the hotel wifi.

Having spent the last couple of weeks convinced I’m going to fail third year, I have now come to the conclusion that I don’t actually care. So here I am spending my time writing about myself.

I’m learning to drive at the moment. It’s been quite slow going, mainly because my mum likes to panic if I go above 20mph. Finally my dad had time to take me and, to use his words, ‘it was time I took a leap forwards.’

Fast forward to me stalled with half my car blocking a main road in front of a lorry and queue of cars.

Yay driving!

Yesterday was the last day of term. I had my obligatory ME3 DMT break down, but other then that it was A-OK.

In the evening I am cooking dinner. I put on my dining hall playlist from camp, and start food prep. Don’t Stop Believing is followed by Baby which is followed by the Fresh Prince rap.

I am prancing around the kitchen singing all the words and doing all the dance moves and generally just having the best time in my camp bubble.

And suddenly, my housemates clear surprise at my music and dance knowledge reminds me that this isn’t normal when you’re not at camp.

Only 3 months to go!

Today, I went to my locker in college. I opened it using my key (as you do), got my things, and locked it again. I then reached up on top of the locker to make sure I’d put my keys back in my pocket. I couldn’t feel them. I stood on my tiptoes to make sure they weren’t sat there. They weren’t.

Fast forward to 30 minutes later when I’ve hopped off the bus and I’m walking the 120 seconds to my front door. I reach into my pocket, and I can’t feel my keys. I spend all of the 120 second walk aggressively searching through my pocket for my keys and, by the time I reach my front door, I realise they’re not there.


I ring the doorbell. None of my housemates are in.


I text my flat group, to ask if anyone is in Putney or in college. I begin walking across the bridge because I’m pretty sure my friend is at home.

I suddenly get a text from Ben saying he’s on his way home. I ask if he’s close and start walking back towards my house. He’s not close. He’s still in mech eng.


He goes to check where my keys are. They’re not there.


I turn back towards my friend’s house. He texts me. He’s not there.


I walk back to my house. An hour has now passed. I empty the contents of my back pack out onto the street damp street. Did I mention it’s been raining the whole day? Oh look. There are my keys.

Why do I do things?

My bros and I have recently been watching Celebs Go Dating. Well I say that, we watched 2 episodes together and I watched the other 3 myself. I’m just cool like that.

Our favourite stories are Jorgie and Perri. Jorgie because she’s as useless at dating as we are (oh you like someone? Clearly the way to let them know is to say and do nothing any different then normal), and Perri for the same reason. But Perri’s parts have got me thinking.

Every date he’s organised himself so far has been, in my opinion, perfect. Giant milkshakes? Great idea. Ice skating? Amazing fun. I’d be over the moon if I got to do either of those on a date! So why are the dating agents being so mean to him about them?!

I don’t get it. If the guy likes doing these things, and wants to meet a girl who likes doing these things then surely the best way to meet someone is to do these things? My first dates (not that there’s actually been that many) have ranged from dinner at the Savoy to a casual milkshake and chips, and guess what? I dated the milkshake guy because he likes doing the same things as me!

So Perri. If you ever read this. Which you undoubtedly won’t. Don’t listen to the agents. There are girls who would like nothing more then to spend an afternoon ice skating and slurping slushies. I would know, because I am one. If fancy dinners aren’t your style, then don’t bother. What’s the point?

You do you.