Fuck off Flutey, I'm not in the mood.

Hey! It's been a while.

Oh wait. No, no it has not.

There was me, naively thinking that on Friday I should post the tiny amount of bad luck I'd had over Christmas because, weirdly, nothing big had happened, and maybe that was how things were going to continue to be. Oh boy, is my face red. Karma, you so funny. *enter a very unimpressed, slightly angry face here*

Bags packed, food slowly thawing, rain drizzling down and the two and a half hour journey back to Uni begins. My Dad offered to give me a lift (by offered, I mean, I asked and made it too uncomfortably awkward for him to say no...it's a fine line), so I could take a whole heap of stuff back in an attempt to make revision and exams that bit better. This week coming, and today (obviously), there's no one in my house but me. No distractions, let the learning commence! Means I have the house to myself. Great you think? I'm sorry have you met me?

With that idea in mind, on this 'tough luck Thomo' blog, let me continue. Unpacking all the bags from the car, my Dad states he needs to 'shoot back' so he arrives home a suitable time. Fair. 'Put the heating on Danielle, you'll freeze!'.

As I sit here with gloves on typing this, attempting to see passed the fog that appears every time I breathe, you'll realise, heat was not to be. Have a hot shower instead you say? No no, where's the fun of no heating if you can have a hot shower? If you're gonna go 18th century, do it properly!

After a three hour fight with the boiler push-buttons, slidey-buttons, hidden-under-flap-buttons and the power switch, defeated, I called my landlord. He then did the same things as me, with the added benefit of actually knowing what he was doing, and then declared 'you're fucked mate'. Okay, it was more 'I think the fans broken, I'll call British Gas but for tonight it might be a bit cold, I'm really sorry', but my version allows for greater dramatic effect. Poetic licence we'll call it.

In this time, I'd also discovered the WiFi wasn't working. An hour of searching in the front room for the 'god damn bloody router' (such foul language is excusable when home alone) where it used to be, I messaged my house-mate in a moment of desperation. It was under her bed, just unplugged. Plug in socket, switch turned on. And they say this technology business is difficult. Pssh. As if.

HELLO WORLD.

Mission internet: accomplished.

Luckily though, this ordeal was drastically improved through the DO DO D..O.. DDDD..OO tune invading my bedroom through the walls of our house. My neighbour has a flute, who'd have known! I'd say 'plays' the flute, but I'm not sure that would quite convey the sound I want you too to experience. Is there a helpline for flutes? NSPCF perhaps? I might slip the number under the door when she's out. Not that I'm bitter or anything. But hey, it's no longer the season to be jolly. Fa la la la NA. Though, she wasn't to know the situation I was in. Or maybe she did, and was trying to cheer me up? Bless her.

And so ends my first day back in Bath of 2014.

Mission slowly freeze to death overnight: in progress.

Off to Google ways to keep warm. Stay safe in the storms! x

It's a New Year, in case you missed that.

Fireworks and alcohol? Screw that! How about a candlelit home-cooked meal for two and a movie in front of a log fire?

No, I did not spend New Years watching a cheesy romantic film, I actually had my own romantic evening. Genuinely. That happened. Special ain't even the word. Amazing. Truly amazing.

Anyway, Happy New Year and whatnot. Time to make a New Years resolution and then forget it in a few weeks and carry on living life as normal. 'So, come on Thomo, it's called 'tough luck', where's the tough luck?!' I hear you say. You did. Shut up. Alright, I'll feed your sick desire.

This New Years break I spent a few days away down South, near the sea, in the beautiful countryside. Sounds like the start to a really bad old novel, it's not. Bear with me.

Scenic, beautiful and idyllic. For someone from grimy old Croydon, it was like Wonderland. An old-fashioned house with log fires surrounded by the country. I can't really do it justice, despite being the word-smith I am. You get the idea though, it was wonderful.

I had an amazing time, and then God was like 'screw you, I'ma fuck you up'. If I believed in God, that would be true. After 3 amazing days, *the night* came. Two chocolate fingers. TWO. And the world hates me. Slight exaggeration, okay, but it wasn't great, is my point.

Why have a perfectly lovely time, when you can add in a night of excruciating pain? HELL YEAH. Sign me UP! Well, I don't recall ever signing anything, but apparently I was signed up anyway. After a restless night of seemingly endless pain and ineffective painkillers, the morning came. Spoiler alert: wonderfulness coming.

There I am, crippled at the end of the bed, scrunched into a pain-induced ball, and something wonderful happened. A special person, who will not be named for legal* reasons, came and slept next to me, on the floor, because I wouldn't move from my ball of pain on the floor. If that's not amazing, I don't know what is. So I would almost say I was glad I had a night in pain, just for that moment. But I won't, so I don't sound clingy and pathetic. #HopelessRomantic.

And now, as Eminem sang, 'Snap back to reality'. In two days I go back to Bath for my exams. Three of the buggers. As the Pointer Sisters sang, 'Fuck you exams'** (I may have made those lyrics up).  Wish me luck! Or don't, whatever. I don't want to seem needy.

146 days of Uni left. And then I'm free! London, watch out. I'ma be back before you know it. Off to watch TV and eat sweets revise. Enjoy the last week of eating junk food before the self loathing and guilt exercise begins! x




*By legal I mean I don't want to embarrass the hell out of him
**N.B. This joke only makes sense if you know that The Pointer Sisters sung the song 'I'm So Excited'