A creative rebellion against practicality.

Well, enter a new phase in my life. Post-masters, pre-job, and it's apparently all about feeding my senses. A year focused solely on the practicalities of an extremely practical masters has left me creatively malnourished and hungry for my next he'arty' meal. Now all of a sudden I'm overqualified for the crap jobs and under-experienced for the ones I have my eye on, and subsequently I find myself with a lot of time on my hands. And it's great. Definitely feels good to have it ahead of me rather than snapping at my ass.

And I know, I should be job hunting a little more seriously than I am. Kate Conformable - my sensible side - has had a lot to say on that score, but right now Wild Kate has her in a headlock and doesn't look like she plans to let go. To hell with reality for just another day or two. I shall continue to indulge myself with the buttery, sweet and good things in life. Here are a few of my favourite recipes for contentment at the moment:

Penhaligon's - truly the most beautiful perfume and luxury goods store I know. I've adopted their Lily and Spice fragrance as my signature smell. Their attention to detail and loyalty to simple, classic good taste never fails to satisfy me in a way that no other store can.


Dunkin' Donuts - I was thinking about my amazing year spent in Barcelona recently and remembered just what a joy the Donut stand in the Placa Cataluna Metro station was after a long day in the city. There are plans to open a Krispy Kreme here in Manchester in December. Are they as good as our mates at Dunkin'? I'm excited to find out.

Chouchoute chocolates - picking a favourite is, I imagine, like trying to decide which of your kids you like best. It's not been easy but I think a couple of clear winners are emerging; passionfruit infusion ganache, and peach/hops dark ganache. But then again the rose and violet creams are to die for, and the pepper ganache is pretty good....



Montezuma's chocolate - a new discovery for me on a recent day trip to Brighton with my family. These guys do an awesome range of old school choccie bars, all nicely boxed. Be sure not to miss their coconut and macadamia nut bar. One of the yummiest things I've eaten in ages.

Lindt chilli chocolate - I know, chocolate features pretty heavily on this list huh? But seriously now, if you've not ventured to try chilli chocolate - outlandish though it may sound - I suggest you do so. Now.

John Mayer - "waiting on the world"
Feist - "1234"
These two songs are currently rocking my world.

Interior Decor - Ok, so if I was the maternal type I'd definitely be craving babies right now. Talk about the 'nesting instinct' - all I can think about is an attic flat in Barcelona, vaulted ceilings, wooden beams, and those floor to ceiling windows with shutters that lead out onto little balconies overlooking the rooftops. Or perhaps a small clapperboard cottage, near a beach, with white plank walls, a mezzanine and a garden full of honeysuckle and jasmine. A lifetime of house hopping is, apparently, finally taking its toll. I have entire folders full of inspiration for a house I can't afford to own for at least the next 15 years.





Beading - or attempting to. I'm halfway through a small lizard, which I may use as a keyring. It's a bit pointless, but therapeutic nevertheless.

I could go on about avocado, pine nuts, honey roast pistachios or apple pie with cold custard or double cream, but you guys already know they're great. Right? Also loving chunky knit scarves, though it's still too warm to wear them (never thought I'd say that living in England), wooden boxes, paperweights, marbles, and a certain pair of boots with a knitted upper - a pic of which cannot be found.

I could happily shut myself off from the world right now, just pottering round in a little place of my own, minding my own business and doing the things that make me happy. I can tell, because at the moment I'm content doing just that at my parents' house, which usually makes me restless. Batshit crazy, even.

I even went on a date the other day with a nice guy, and as I sat across from him eating my duck and listening to his awesome stories of film-making in Palestine, I couldn't wait to put a door between us. I willed him to pop out of existance in a little puff of cologne-scented smoke so that I could savour my food in peace. Is that wrong?

I'm dreading the enforced interaction, polite chit-chat and 9 to 5 drudgery that will be my life 5 days a week as of Monday, but I suppose it is high time that I rejoin the rest of the world and earn my crust. Maybe then I'll be able to afford to buy some of the fun stuff I've seen on Etsy, or get my flabby behind in the gym before it hatches a master plan to take over the world. Perhaps pick up Mandarin again, attempt to recreate some of the really nice flower arrangements I've been checking out on http://www.tryflowers.org/, or maybe - just maybe - treat myself to some Polaroid instant film and go out in search of pics. I could of course also get myself a life, or my sister a Christmas present, but that would be practical, wouldn't it now?

P.S. If you recongise the bedroom photo as yours, please feel free to step in and claim the credit you're due - I've lost the reference.

Somehow I just don't feel like writing.

Well, my sister keeps saying I should update this thing, but quite frankly I can't think of a thing to say.

I quit my temp job on Wednesday, went out on a date with a bloke I hardly knew, searched for new jobs - both temp and permanent, and tonight I'm off to the Peak District for long walks and wine addled chats with friends in country boozers.

That reminds me, must go upstairs and charge the camera.

I am Miserable.

Lots of grumbling and sulking.

Will you cook me dinner?

Well readers (reader?), it's been a wild week and I'm a little tired, also a little confused. Calendar says March 21st was the first day of Spring, Daylight Savings Time says it's now officially British summertime. If only we could get winter down to four days too.

Running's taken a bit of a back bench this past seven days I'm afraid. Last time I went, it was like wading through treacle just to get to the gym, and by the time I'd completed 10 minutes on the treadmill I would have sworn that someone had smeared superglue on the soles of my runners...the feet just did not want to pick up! By the time I made it home I was convinced I was going to die, so I collapsed, a miserable heap, into my bed until necessity forced me out of it later that evening.

There have been so many dinner invites this week I don't know where to start. It's an absolute blessing because I'd still sooner eat roadkill than anything prepared by my hands at the moment. Cal and his wife had prepared a vat of chilli con carne and enough apple turnover to feed the five thousand on Wednesday, all to be followed by dangerous amounts of amaretto, sloe wine, sloe gin, and ultimately a slow, and painfully early morning of terrorism lectures the next day.

Luckily our South Korean contingent, Martin, had just been promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel, and therefore traditionally owed us all a slap-up celebratory lunch at the local. In a moment of health inspired madness earlier in the week whilst making my menu choice I had plumped for a salad option, which I truly regretted as I watched everyone else tucking into their 'mega-fat-bastard' curries whilst I nibbled at lettuce leaves and the odd strip of cremated beef.

Not to worry though, Laszlo and his lovely wife more than made up for my stingy lunch with a veritable banquet of Hungarian offerings and, more importantly, Thai Bites, that evening. I ventured to try some dodgy looking Hungarian liqueur that came in a bulbous bottle with a big red cross on the front which, I thought, was rather misleading. A skull and cross bones would have been far more appropriate. It tasted like a Night Nurse flu remedy and should probably have come with the following list of possible side effects; convulsions, vomitting, temporary blindness and, ultimately, loss of consciousness. Needless to say I stuck with good old Bushmills the rest of the evening.

My Dad turned up a half hour or so into the affair. He'd been at a defence industry expo the other side of Oxford for two days and decided to pay me a flying visit on his way back up to the grim North. Ordinarily this would be weird, perhaps even verging on social suicide, but as my Dad is closer than I am in both profession and age group to my friends here on the MSc it actually works out strangely well. It's still rather sad to admit though that he's the only man to turn up to an event here on my arm, despite my having had a boyfriend for most of the Cranfield experience. So much for Skippy. I can't blame those who think I made him up.

Speaking of the Australian wonder, we had dinner at his last night - just the two of us - despite the recent break up. I still find this odd, but the free food is good, and a speck of me is still hopeful he'll change his mind and things will go back to the way they were. Well to be honest, things are the way they were, except now I get a ride home in the evening instead of the following morning. I can't say I understand the logic but I've done all I can do without sacrificing my dignity. Anyway, dinner was good and after a day of nothing but an apple and a slice of chocolate cake I devoured three helpings of Thai curry before collapsing onto the sofa to fall asleep half way through 'Chocolat'. I know, what a vixen. Still, I must have done something right because he popped round unannounced with tin of maple syrup and the hoover this morning. More original than that old 'cup of sugar' chestnut I guess, but it's kind of left me wondering if he's hinting at the state of my carpets. As for the maple syrup...who knows?

Terrorism module is going well. So far we've gleaned that a person's political leanings can be discerned by their facial hair ie. beard = Communist, moustache = fascist, really long beard = terrorist. (Lenin, Hitler, Bin Laden. Need I say more?) It may also interest you to know that one person in every ten can be clinically diagnosed with pyscopathic/sociopathic tendencies. Our lecturer clearly had the time of his life watching us all cast covert glances round the classroom trying to figure out which one of the twelve was bound for the funny farm. I just wonder if he knows what half of them actually do for a living...

My list of things to do doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. Have to jazz up my CV a bit and send it out with a stack of covering letters - my favourite passtime. There's been some recent interest expressed by a couple of people but I'll have to move fast if I'm to capitalise on it. The latest uni assignment is based upon a quote by my dissertation supervisor so I'm going to have to put in some extra hours on that if I'm to convince him I'm any good. The running goal stands at 4km this week, AND I'm supposed to be teaching a Spanish class this Wednesday night (The upside of that is there's a free meal involved). How I'm going to fit it all in around lectures I have no idea. I'm knackered just thinking about it.

Can't wait for Easter. Going home to see the family and am hopeful of Chouchoute chocolates!

Procrastinate now. Don't put it off!

A double bed really is a terrible thing to waste, so here I am, under the quilt, propped up on cushions in a fashion reminiscent of grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - he only got out of bed for chocolate too. Snuck, stealth-like, down to the kitchen at about 10am to raid my stash for a Fudge bar - only 115 calories and a bit of fat - I reason it's less than a bowl of cereal and therefore a perfectly viable breakfast. One cup of Te Rojo and a glass of Robinsons no added sugar apple & blackcurrant cordial later and my staple dietary requirements for the day are well on the way to being complete. Disaster Management presentation due tomorrow is, however, far from it.

We've had some nice weather recently - 'nice' in the British weather vocabulary meaning 'not wet' and 'above freezing'. It's slightly overcast today but the damn wind has finally blown itself out and all is strangely peaceful. Nothing but the sounds of people mowing their lawns, the birds chattering in the trees and a flock of pigeons flying themselves dizzy in circles round the house. God, I crave summer like a fat kid craves cake. Have been sleeping with the window open the past few nights for the simple fact that I can - finally - without dying of hypothermia in my sleep. Just 3 days of 12 degrees and watery sunshine and already I wake up covered in mosquito bites - god I love scratching them. Reminds me of summer.

Study's not going too well. Somewhere between New Year and now I lost impetus, then interest, and finally the will to live. Okay, so it's not that bad, but this course can be pretty tough when you have nothing and no-one to take your mind off work. (Cue the violins...) I need a hobby, a release of some kind.

In a period of extreme desperation a couple weeks ago I decided to brave the treadmill while the gym was deserted and no-one could see me sweat. Lo-and-behold I discovered not only that I can run (previous attempts had resulted in something verging on heart failure) but that I enjoy it. For a blissful 20 minutes the only thought to cross my mind was where the next lungful of oxygen was coming from - a welcome respite from the usual 'does he, doesn't he?', assignment deadline panic, and job application fear. My personal best is still only 2.5kms in 16.5 mins - I know, herds of turtles have been known to stampede through peanut butter in better time - but I'll improve with practice and the correct motivation, ie. anger, frustration, and chocolate. For those of you who don't know, I was always the kid bringing up the rear in gym class (no, not the chubby asthmatic kid, the one behind him), so this will be no easy journey, but should keep us all entertained nevertheless. Now all I need is the courage to ask one of the on-site army PTIs to help devise a training plan...