This is Me
Before we begin I’d just like to add a disclaimer that baring my soul to a bunch of strangers on the internet is not my idea of a good time. Maybe five years ago; when I had a thicker fringe and wasn’t yet using humour as a defence mechanism but not now. So if that’s why you’re here, then this is your chance to leave. And if you’re a fellow classmate looking for some gossip or, god forbid, some insightful advice on a difficult topic- prepare to be greatly disappointed (a novel by me).
A Brief History (I lied it’s not that brief)
· I was born in Slough on a rainy night in the middle of a rainy month (February is a traumatic month for birthdays, it’s like the middle child of the months).
· I was raised by a South African ex- policewoman and a man who can at times be the embodiment of “you can take the man out of the council estate but you can’t take the council estate out of the man”.
· We moved around a lot which totally made me super adaptable and didn’t give me weird attachment issues. We eventually settled in Thanet, where my snot of a brother was born, purposely to ruin the really good time I was having as an only child.
· My childhood consisted of all the appropriate things like mud pies and Power Rangers, tempered by my Mom’s love of country music and my Dad’s love of the UK ‘The Office’ and ‘Alan Partridge’. This obviously did wonders for my social life as a young teenager; trying to sing Garth Brooks songs at karaoke nights and having David Brent as my icon made me really relatable.
· At fourteen I discovered an interest in journalism and a penchant for low moods, so I decided to channel this into a completely healthy weekly breakdown on a Sunday night and an eventually misleadingly upbeat article for my local paper about What it’s Really Like to be a Teenager!
· By my GCSE’s I was the family star child and accidentally perpetuated that title by breezing through my exams with absolutely no revision, which set some pretty unrealistic expectations for sixth form for my family and myself.
· Those standards dropped pretty quickly when I promptly failed everything I put my hand to including picking a sixth form which wouldn’t go tits up by my second year. I peaked socially at 17 when I discovered drinking, tattooed my best friend (because I got a C in GCSE art and therefore was the ideal person to do it after a lot of Jagermeister) and got caught smuggling tequila into my NCS graduation. I left sixth form after two long years with dismal grades, a dismal attitude and a uni place got by the skin of my teeth.
· My first year of university was enlightening. I learnt to start over by myself and enjoy my own company but thank god that ended pretty quickly when I managed to make some friends who I hope never leave me because being by yourself is bloody boring (there’s no one around to laugh at my super witty comments). Commuting for the first year was crippling, watching half of my already meagre loan disappear just so I could be on a bus for three hours a day. My parents, always desperate to out match me the little attention seekers, timed their buying of a cottage in Greece just as I put a deposit down on a house in Canterbury; sinking all of their time and money into something other than me (tsk). This is only relevant because it leads me on to the most ridiculous four days of my entire life.
· The day after my first and only uni exam, I set off with my dad, a cousin who for eighteen years of my life had lived on the other side of the world and we drove to Greece in a van full of furniture for the house. Four days, nine countries, two breakdowns (of the van, mine were more like twice daily), endless border investigations, one case of crippling food poisoning (obviously that was me) and a van full of things with all the wrong permits.
Where is She Now?
Today I’m currently studying English Literature and Creative Writing at Canterbury Christ Church University. I spend my days lying in bed and thinking about my existence, going home to visit and take selfies no one asked for nor wants to see with my dog, and spending a lot of time telling people I drink a lot of tea in an effort to seem more British when in fact I don’t really drink a lot of tea. I barely drink any tea. I miss coffee.
