Earlier this year, I made it my mission to get back in touch with old friends. Friends who just passed by nowadays, and only caught up on from their Instagram feed or their Twitter timeline.
One of my best things I did, was get back in touch with my chum Steph. Steph and I worked and lived abroad together and were basically two peas in a pod.
But life got in the way and we didn't hang out for nearly four years (I know, regret!).
Now everytime we meet up, we set dates in the diary.
And once again, we're two peas in a pod. She's become my little avocado.
So I headed to see her a few weeks back, down in London town. And we had the best time. We spent most of it eating, and rediscovering my childhood love of Potato Waffles, we shopped and gave up within an hour, and we rode bicycles through the park pretending to be Summer in 500 Days.
Those weekends full of food are always the best.
As is my friend Steph. I like her a lot. And her duvet.
If there's one bed (apart from my own of course), that I'd happily move into, I think I'd take Steph's.  Never in my life have I felt more like a marshmallow than I do hiding and snuggling under her duvet. It is heavenly. As is her bedroom - the perfect haven for relaxing and catching up on life. Complete with funny tasting tea.
A good day is always started with breakfast, and she took me to a quaint little spot for some eggs and coffee. We giggled about awkward dates, cabbage patches and drunk times and then pottered about reading lost notes of peoples past before braving the shops and basically trying on the whole of Forever 21.. Before giving up!
As we left the hoards of shoppers, we headed towards Victoria Park and thought it would be a crack if we hopped on some bikes. Being as unfit as each other, meant it was totally cool to amble at slower than slow pace, but we still managed two laps of the park. And even debated buying ourselves bikes for the Summer.. Because, life!
The streets of London are always so different to the next and I could get lost in the rows and rows of beautifully built terraced houses. Drooling over their big bay windows and high ceilings, and filled throughout with wooden floorboards has me wondering of who lives inside each door. London is strangely magical. Yet busy.
Sunday morning was spent in our pyjamas, drinking tea and watching the London Marathon. Surprisingly, we found ourselves really getting involved, and we celebrated the motivated people, by eating our morning away with potato waffles, bacon and avocado. It was that good, I picked some potato waffles up on the way home!
Fairly sure I say this everytime, but friends are really all kinds of awesome. And Steph is one of them.
Even if she did drop me in a cabbage patch a few years back....
If there's one thing I've learnt this year to do with Little Winter, it's to be honest. And if I'm being honest, well things have just been really bloody tough these last two weeks.
Like really tough.
So I decided that by continuing with my Five Happy Things post, it gives me the kick up the butt to remind me that the world hasn't ended, that I still have a roof over my head, and that life is still full of wonderful and magical things.Plus cats are still awesome.

My Girls. With feeling down in the dumps, my friends have tried so hard to cheer me up, and I may not thank them in the moment, but I literally feel so grateful for them. And a big snog to two ladies in particular, Sarah and Rosie who have rescued me in my pile of tears and are bringing the beach (kinda) to the Midlands in a few weeks. These girls are the best. They all are.

Avocado's. I bought my first avocado this week and made myself a pretty tasty salad. Admittedly I flopped at cutting it up, but sometimes there are things in life that we are no good at. This is one of them for me. Although thumbs up to the salad I added it to. And yes, this was totally a happy moment.

My Parents. Literally couldn't be anywhere without them. All the love and thankfulness in the world wouldn't quite prove to them how much I appreciate everything they have done in these last few months. Parent's really are on another level aren't they?

Spring Cleaning. On Sunday morning, I put my music on full pelt, grabbed the hoover and some cleaning equipment, and gave my place a good old spring clean. And actually, I felt so much better and calm knowing that the cushions were plumped up, the rug was fur free and the kitchen was as spotless as it could be.

A haircut. I booked in for a haircut, just for a trim and to re-shape my fringe. And well basically, just for a good hairwash. It was definitely a good relaxed hour in the salon.With fresh smelling hair.

I'll leave you with a quote which quite aptly fits right now - "There is a light at the end of the tunnel. And if you can't see that light, you haven't quite reached the end".
Tell me, what things made you happy this week?
I've been incredibly busy these last few weeks and poor little Runkle has been missing me heaps. This week I made sure to be at home every night so that we could hang out, and do you know what? We had the best time. He honestly does not leave my side. When I'm washing the dishes, he's sitting on the drainer. When I'm folding up my clothes, he's standing at my feet. When I'm curled up on the sofa, he's plonked his tubby belly on top of me, and yes, when I go to the loo.. He follows me too. But as I always say, I wouldn't have it any other way!
Living alone hasn't actually been that bad. Of course there are nights when I want to watch movies with someone, or curl up next to, but you know, it's such a different time. I feel like I do what I want, when I want. Some evenings I'll eat late, some evenings I'll eat early. And if I want to sit and eat curly fries and cheese for three nights running and watching re-runs of Gossip Girl in my pants, then hell, I will. Ain't nobody stopping me!
If you'd have asked me years ago what my take on bedding was, I always replied that I buy anything that does the job. Fast forward to now, and ever since I delved into the world of expensive bedding, I find myself constantly wanting to sleep amongst these crisp sheets, even if it means washing it and re-making it within a day. So worth it!
 Hi my name is Katy, and I have developed an obsession for cactus' and any form of succulents. When MillionD came to visit this weekend, we headed into town and returned home with two bags of those spiky plants (we definitely could have left with more, but we resisted. For now anyway...) and prickled skin. I love adding splashes of green to my neutral coloured home. One day, it'll turn into a greenhouse!
There are many wonderful people in the world, but one in particular who has stuck with me this week. When an email popped through my inbox a few weeks back from essentially a stranger, asking to send me a present, I felt a little unsure. What? Why me? However after talking to Polly (who, by the way is literally an inspirational lady!), she simply wanted to send me a 'pick me up' parcel as she'd once received from a stranger before. Honestly... This is quite simply one of the kindest things someone has ever done. The fact Polly reached out to me (and ended up listening to me pour out about the last few months!) was such a warm and humble feeling.
Polly has now inspired me in many ways. And firstly, I am making up a little parcel myself to send onto someone who needs that pick me up. Because it works. And people are awesome!

I'm not sure why I felt the need to write this post considering I've spent the past few weeks not even wanting to tell close family how I feel, where I'd been to friends or what was actually happening.
Maybe I'm writing this because the letter that arrived through my door today finally hit me, finally caught up with me and made me cry. Made me feel uneasy.
Maybe I'm writing this because people are praising me for being so brave, and so strong, coping well, when really, right now, in this moment, I feel like I'm nowhere near that.
Maybe I'm writing this because it's the honest thing to do. Nobody wants to hear of people being sad and having a hard time, but equally, we're all normal people. We all have dark times.
Or maybe I'm writing this because I shouldn't be like a lot of people in the world, hiding things, bottling things up and dealing with them alone. Because really, we should never feel alone.
But equally, saying that. I don't want sympathy. I'm not quite prepared for the people to tell me "that they're here for me" that "they're sorry I'm going through this alone" or that "it's a difficult time right now". I don't want that.
And I know people are just trying to help..
Jesus, I would be totally the same, and the first at the door with flowers and a shoulder to cry on.
But because I'm essentially 'alone', my mind has told me that I have to do things alone.
Which in a word, is total BULLSHIT.
And so maybe that's why I'm writing this. Because I'm telling myself that it's OK to share things. That it's OK to be honest, and that it's OK for people to want to be there for you. And help you.
Because actually, that's part of life.
But then, I also tell myself that in fact, what is happening right now, is only a small issue.
A small issue compared to what some people are going through.
And that really I should be grateful to be here.
Which hell, I am.
I could sit here all day and tell you of the things I'm thankful for. I am incredibly lucky to be here.
But I suppose in a sense, I'm OK to have MY issues.
And I'm OK to cry about it.
That's what I'm trying to tell myself.

When I moved out at the end of March, I felt a little distant from life. I kept myself busy (I still do), and I threw myself into seeing friends, and doing things that I hadn't done in some time. I pushed the thought of selling our house to the back of my mind, and told myself this was a fresh start. We'd made our choice, for the right reasons and that was a part of life I shall remember, but it wasn't my forever story. I have things to do, for me.
And with a fresh start, came a small panic of everything. Now I'm nowhere near ready to start a relationship, or even meet anyone, (OK, here's being totally honest with you) but the thought of having sex with someone terrified me. With sex previously hurting me on occasions, and finding myself putting it off at times, I realised that maybe it was time to have my smear test.
The smear test that I'd put off for two years.
Because here I was starting again. I didn't want to feel like this forever.
I didn't want to be 'abnormal', as I felt. I wanted to just be a normal 26 year old.
So I took a very nervous self to the doctors, and you know what? People tell you it honestly is no big deal, and that it doesn't hurt and is over within minutes.
Well mine wasn't.
Mine really hurt. It took 25 minutes to do. And it was so painful, that she had to go and find a smaller instrument to ease my pain for the little vagina I had.
There I said my honest truth. And I'm probably the minority here, but after half hour with one of the loveliest and kindest nurses I've possibly ever met, I left feeling like my invasion of privacy had been broken.
The nurse had mentioned how my cervix seemed raw and erosive, and softly reassured me that maybe this was why sex sometimes hurt, however I had a normal looking vagina. The words I longed to hear, had been spoken. I put this all to the back of my mind, and carried on my day. My week. My life.
A week and a half later, a letter came through my door as I was heading out. I opened it, and read those words that I didn't want to see. 'High Grade Dyskaryosis'. Within seconds of opening the letter, I threw it in my bag and ignored it. I spent the night laughing with my friends as though nothing mattered. Nothing was different.
The following night however when another letter appeared with a date for a Colposcopy and a Biopsy, I researched it. And then I called my mum. And she cried a little. I didn't. I kind of blocked it out, and kept telling myself that 'everything happens for a reason' and that it'll be fine. I didn't feel any different.
And I knew it would be fine. But actually, I didn't. I just didn't really want to think about it.
So I didn't. Until that day came, and I walked into the hospital room, wearing my gown, holding my box of clothes.
And I was shaking.
Boy, I freaked out. I really freaked out.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. I cried. And I shook. And quite honestly, it was one of the hardest things I had to do. I can't deal with pain one bit. I just wanted it to be over and I just wanted to take my legs out of the stirrups. I didn't want to hold my mum's hand anymore, and I didn't want the kind nurse to try and chat to me. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
After half an hour, I was given a sanitary towel (bigger than my vagina - that's the only funny part about this!) and felt faint at the sight of blood. Now (sorry for the honesty again!), I'm not a heavy bleeder, but this was awful. I had bled a huge amount. I felt sick, and uncomfortable. And had unbearable stomach pain.
I spent that week curling up in bed at any opportunity, going to the toilet every hour to clean myself up because I felt dirty. And trying hard to hide my sweating that had appeared. I felt disgusting, and disorientated and how having a simple biopsy on something like this, could make my body feel all over the place.
But as awful as I felt, I picked myself up, and carried on. I laughed about the size of the sanitary towel, I laughed about the fact I was sweating as though I had the menopause early, and I just got on with things. I told everyone it was fine, and that these things happen. I didn't really think about it anymore. I planned a weekend with my friend, and after dropping my car off at the garage I hopped on a train to London.
That following morning, I was told that my car wasn't doing great and that it needed fixing. It would cost nearly £1000 to sort. I couldn't believe it. Why was this happening to me? I don't have that kind of money, but I also couldn't live without a car. I spent that weekend and the following week thinking up ways on whether to sell the car, or pay to have it fixed. After deciding to sell it, my mum and I headed out on the road (in said car) to part exchange it for something new.
And we broke down.
The car started smoking. And the water was dripping through the bonnet.
And my mum and I were scared.
And that. That was the moment, that made me cry. That made me wonder why life was testing me. Why life was pushing my buttons whilst I was facing these things alone.
Until my mum told me "that it was just a piece of metal. It's no big deal".
And she was so right. It is nothing in the scheme of things.
Cut a long story short, RAC saved my life and within hours I'd managed to part exchange the car for a new one. It was a bitter sweet story, but one thing ticked off the box.
It was only going to get better from here now.
And I put my smile on my face, I had friends for dinner, I went shopping with family and I spent time on my own enjoying the calmness of a night alone. I felt alright. Weekend's away were booked back in, and my place was coming together. Life was picking up. Life is picking up. Things happen for a reason.
So when a letter came through my postbox this weekend telling me I have pre cancerous cells, I kind of crumbled. The letter had briefly explained that I'm to go under general anesthetic for an LLETZ procedure (I'm not even going to explain it, because reality is, I don't know. I kind of don't want to read about it), and that I'm to wait for my hospital date.
And how do I feel? Right now, I feel a little like I'm watching myself from another room. I feel like I've stepped out of my body, as though I'm not really sure this is happening to me. I'm constantly having backwards and forwards with myself, one minute feeling slightly sad that this is happening to me, happening to me when I almost need someone the most, but then telling myself that I need to grow a pair. This happens to people daily, so many others are faced with this - AND MUCH WORSE. And that actually, this really is no big deal.
And I guess it really isn't a big deal.
I don't have cancer. I have pre cancerous cells. And I'm going to get them removed. Because I can. Because it's not too late, and I'm incredibly lucky. I'm still here.
Do I feel stupid for putting this off for two years? I honestly couldn't tell you. This is the reason I put it off. That doesn't mean that it's right for doing that, but I was scared. I still am scared. If this has taught me anything, and as I've said to the few people around me who know, it's proved a hell of a lot to myself that I'm stronger than I think.
It's made me have this attitude of brushing everything off, and taking it within my stride. And it HAS made me stronger. It's made me realise that being alone has meant I've had to get on with it, because there's noone to come home to everynight and get reassurance from. So I've had to reassure myself, and well, that's tiring. So it's simply been easier to ignore it. To not think about it, until those moments happen.
But I'm still just a normal person. A normal person with feelings, and concerns.
And the want for someone to just tell me that everything will be OK.
I know it will. It's part of my life story.
And with that, I wanted my life story to be as honest as possible.

So there you go, I guess now knowing that I have a small vagina, makes us all really good friends now right? But please, promise me one thing... I don't want your sympathy, instead offer it to someone who needs it a lot more than I do. Just be there to laugh and share with me our embarrassing stories, and the simple pleasures that life gives us.

They're the important things right now.
Last month was one that I'd spent majority of the year looking forward to. Counting down on my diary too, and feeling super excited for.
The beautiful Rosie was getting married (YEP. MARRIED. Like real grown up stuff!), to her equally handsome man, Tom. And I was invited to celebrate the beginnings of new things for them.
That's a nice feeling you know.
To be part of something so special like that.
Oh, I love a good wedding I do.
Although I'm that guest. The one that cries over everything. Happy tears city, I tell you.
Also, apologies to the couple in front of me who always looked concerned every time I weeped a little more. Weddings are just SO romantic. SO lovely.
The ceremory was quite possibly one of the most perfect ceremonies you could ever dream of. Not only was it held in a beautiful and quaint old mill, but seeing Bodhi in his mint bow tie had me squeeing with delight. Rosie oozed beauty and elegance, and Tom looked super dapper. I debated walking down the aisle to him myself....
The table settings were every girls dream, with the flowers being effortless in their vintage watering cans, alongside cute heart bowls full of mini eggs (yes, one of each colour ever single time thanks!). The paper hearts and advice to the bride and groom notes were just the finishing touches that makes a wedding one to remember.
Ahh the gluten table. The table that screamed 'EAT ALL OF ME'. Like seriously, look at all those delightful looking cakes ranging from Strawberry to Lemon and Chocolate, and meringues thrown in for good measure. And the perfectly swirled cupcakes (go Sarah!!). Lets just say that this table didn't last that long...
This girl. My date for the day - and an awesome date at that. So awesome that we even ended up in matching pants, and decided that after one too many drinks and sharing a Cornish pasty, that it was totally acceptable to tell a stranger this news. She's a keeper, I tell you. Maybe I'll marry her.
Getting out of bed the next morning was hard (except for Char - don't know how that lady does it!), but nothing sorted us out like a big greasy fry up and a windy walk along the beach. The wind in our hair, and the sun blazing down on us was the perfect way to end what was one of the loveliest weekends of the year so far. Weddings and good friends are literally the best medicine.
And this one. THIS one, MillionD to be precise, is bloody awesome. Literally super awesome. And when she's drunk, I want to spend my whole life around her.
So Million... Want some more alcohol...??!!

Writing my last post of Five Happy Things was really good for me. It made me sit and think a while. It made me truly appreciate the smallest and simplest things that had become so lost in the last few months. The smallest things that Little Winter was always known for, and wants to still be known by.
Because something that may mean nothing to someone,
Could mean a LOT to you.
And to me this week, it's these five things that have made me happy.

My home. Things are feeling fairly settled around here, and after being away this weekend, I really enjoyed walking through my front door (two actually!) and heading upstairs to find the little ball of fur waiting for me. I have taken such pride in my little space, my little home with it's wooden floorboards, high ceilings and beautiful fireplaces. And what I love the most, is the fact that if I want to leave my pants on the floor, then I WILL.
Because yes. I totally do that sometimes.

Socialising. I've spent the weekend in Brighton and London visiting friends and family, and I've really loved being busy. I love spending evenings in catching up with friends over takeaways, and watching comedy films, but equally enjoy heading to the pub for a few glasses of wine (must stop getting tipsy so easily!) laughing about the fact I'm a terrible swimmer and making plans for the Summer. Time with good people is well spent.

Cooking. Never did I think this would come in my top five, but saying that I have really gotten into cooking. I was never a terrible cook, (I just want food NOW), but since planning my meals (when you're cooking for one - although I cook for lunch and the freezer too!), I've truly gotten into coming home and chopping up my ten thousands of vegetables, and making one of my many favourite dishes. It mostly involves pasta. But that's OK!

My Brothers Cat. YES. I totally went there. They recently rescued the cutest little female cat who lived in a church before, and although she's ten, she's the most affectionate little thing ever. Her purring is adorable, and that little splodge on her nose had me thinking up ways in which I could bring her back to mine. I like cats a lot!

Positive Thinking. These last few weeks have been testing, but something inside me just told me to get on with it. And having this kind of 'brushing it off my shoulder' attitude has been helping. Whether I'm trying to ignore the reality of everything (I'm fairly certain I'm not), I've found it rewarding taking everything with a pinch of salt and telling myself that everything happens for a reason. Because it does surely?
And also, I'm proud of myself. For standing back up everytime life pushes me over (it pushes me over a lot, but I'm not very good on my feet anyway so y'know... Working on it!). I've got this.

So here's to more positive thinking - because stars can't shine without a little bit of darkness.
Tell me, what things made you happy this week?

I used to suffer from FOMO a few years back. Like a lot. In other words, I had massive fear of missing out, and found myself constantly saying yes to everything because 'WHAT IF I MISSED SOMETHING SO GOOD?'
But now.
I don't mind saying no. Actually not so much saying no, more just appreciating that time in can be just as awesome and needed as heading out in heels that hurt (sometimes). And you don't even need to spend as much as you would a night out. So there's always a bonus.
Although, I say that as though I know these things.
But I'm the kind of girl who pre-drank before getting to the bar.
Who would only need a pitcher of cocktail to keep her going all night,
And would spend the rest of her money on chips, cheese and a taxi home.
Yep. That's the kind of girl I was. Still am in fact.
But I'd rather buy all the cheeses, make my own pitchers, keep my slippers on, listen to music that I want too, not have to order taxi's and just stay in with my friends. Yep, I now have the joy of missing out!
Ladbrokes Bingo invited me to take part in their JOMO challenge... So having just moved out, with minimal technology (I'm a bit behind OK?!), I took the sensible route, for once, and picked up a DVD player, because let's be honest, that's a good start.
Then I decided it was time to sort out one of my major life problems..
I'd never seen Bridget Jones before...
So I picked up the two film boxset. And 500 Days Of Summer (somehow I managed to lose 2 copies of this last year?!) and told myself that's all I need in my DVD library.
But DVD's aside, a night in is never ever complete without some trusty slippers, and well, I couldn't resist these cute bunny slippers. I can't resist any slippers if I'm honest, but these especially.
I mean, LOOK at them. They have bunny ears.
And cute buttons.
And well, they were in my basket fairly swiftly.
With any night in, comes the need (and must!) for snacks of all kinds. Movie nights must always be accompanied with Popcorn. That's a fact for you.
Ideally a mix of Sweet & Salt. But I mean, I'll take toffee flavour too. Or plain.
Actually, I'm really not fussy at all. So unfussy that biscuits came into the mix aswell. Jammie Dodgers, Brownies and some Chocolate Chip Cookies (and yes, I was good with GF choices!) were bought. And as per usual, no night is ever a night without cheese.
All kinds of cheese.
Camembert was the chosen cheese. With lots of garlic. Garlic is good. Garlic is great when you're watching Bridget Jones and nodding in agreement.  #Liferightnow.
So I called my friend over, flicked on the fairy lights, fluffed up my cushions and lit all my hundreds of candles. I popped some wine in the fridge and poured a few glasses of cider ready for her arrival.
The slippers were on.
The hair was pulled back.
The curtains were closed,
And the night in began. And you know what? Not once did I get the fear of missing out. In fact, I'm fairly sure that everyone outside of my place was feeling FOMO.
Or maybe not. But I'd like to pretend so.
And with said night in being enjoyable, I have learnt two things:
1) You don't need money to have a good time in - the simple sounds of laughter and chatter between friends are always much more memorable than the faint sounds and nodding in a club.
2) That Bridget Jones is bloody awesome. Super awesome. Like Colin Firth. I like him too.
Oh, and as a third one... I make a pretty good hot chocolate. Marshmallows too. THAT, is my kind of night.

Runkle is my little prince. He has been since the day that we brought him home. Runkybum and I did and still do, everything together, and when he used to be a house cat, he would spend hours wanting our attention and fuss.
Still to this day I think that having him for a house cat for the first year and a half, turned him into who he is today - the best kind of cat.
Although that's probably from my constant fussing and love too!
Basically in a word, he's needy.
Even more so now since him and I packed our bags and started a new chapter.
Runky wants to be everywhere I am, seeing whatever I am up to and being part of anything I am doing. He's always there. And most likely purring away.
Which I don't mind.
Not at all.
Because as you know me, I like cats.
Actually I don't like cats.
I bloody love them. And as my dad so correctly points out, I've just become a proper spinster cat lady. I'll take that.
I love when he greets me at the door at the end of the day, pretty excited to see me and hang out (yeah, we totally hang out). I love when he wants to join me in the bath because he feels that he's missing out and I love when he curls up in bed with me, and snuggles right in when I'm feeling a little sad or lost.
He just knows.
And he's bloody awesome he is. If he could understand me and talk (sometimes I'm grateful that he doesn't have to hear my chat), I think I'd take him out for a drink or two. Or maybe just an orange juice.
Because if he's anything like me, he'll be a right lightweight.
Which makes us a good pair really.
I mean, we like our sleep, we like to have our hair played with, and we like cuddles.
We also both really like cheese. And Marmite.
So to those people who think cats are stubborn (I know, I don't get it either).. You should come spend a night at ours. Because I can guarantee you, that this little chap here...
He is far from stubborn. He's awesome.
And you know something else.
He is my favourite ever person. Yes, honestly.
So pass me the Dreamies, because we've got a wild night in watching Birds on Youtube.

This weekend was a lazy one. A much needed lazy one at that.
I'd spent all week panicking that I had minimal plans made, and debated filling my time and diary with things to do and people to see. But I knew in the back of my head, that I needed this weekend, this time, to chill out.
To just chill out and do nothing.
Potter about in my pants if I wanted.
Wear my hair in a topknot too.
And think that I can do this. I don't need a busy diary - I can do no plans.
But I know that I prefer a busy diary.. Because I get bored a little.
I'm like that. Quite antsy. Or short attention span if you like.
I like busy.
On Sunday I made myself breakfast in bed (if I couldn't do it this weekend, then when would I!), filled my bowl with Museli and poured myself a fresh glass of grape smoothie (I'm such a sucker for a Milk Bottle*!) and spent the morning on Netflix. Well, I tried too.. Some tiny feet thought otherwise.
My only plan that was set, was to head to my friends house with cider and chocolate in tow. We spent the evening having bunny snuggles (like LOOK at that face!!), filling our faces with Camembert (you can never go wrong! Ever!), losing my Bridget Jones virginity (yep, sold. I love it!), and talking life of being a grown up.
Waking up this morning to this view was really not so bad at all, and with only the faint sounds of the wildlife pottering through the fields, I felt completely peaceful. With the sun shining through the window and a good nights sleep behind me, I was eager to head home and finish unpacking those final boxes that I'd put off doing.
After getting rid of those last few boxes, I felt ready to tackle the next room sponsored by endless cups of tea and a few cookies for energy. Feeling organised this weekend has now relaxed me, so much so, that I've even written my food shopping ready for the week.. Thanks to this awesome Ceramic Memo Card*. No panic buying here!
So, did I enjoy my lazy weekend?
Did I find it utterly bliss?
Well, actually, yes I did. I mean, pass me the shopping bags, the bar hopping and the food tasting anyday over a weekend in, but sometimes you just need a weekend. To not wear a bra, to not brush your hair, to sort through your paperwork and washing, and to just take time for yourself. To be a lazy cactus.
And I certainly did that.
And I'm now more tired this weekend from doing nothing.
Which is a funny thing isn't it?
But if there's one way to end this weekend for me, it's taking some chocolate to bed, finding a cheery film (sorry Blair Witch Project, not this time!), and snuggling up with little Runklebum ready for a peaceful night dreaming of cats, cheese, pandas and biscuits that I most likely can't eat.
But maybe I'll just re-look at my diary first...
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