Year 2 Blog 16- You Should Always Thank Your Bus Driver

So this week kind of marked a momentous occasion for me…

I’ve been living in Yorkshire for two whole years….

That’s a long time. Ok maybe not compared to my 20 years spent in Lancashire but with the amount of changing and growing up I’ve had to do, it’s a lot to fit in to two years. Some momentous stuff has happened here- I went abroad by myself (fully aware Barcelona is not in Yorkshire but the idea was born here and I packed my suitcase here!) I went to my first Gay Pride festival (albeit a very low key Gay Pride festival. Bravo Bradford- it’s the thought that counts) I argued with a Spanish person on my doorstep, attempted to unblock a drain by shoving a skewer down it…

My life is one adventure after another.

Plus, I get to watch some pretty nice sunsets out of my window…

And I’m very happy right now, I’m finally getting into a place where I can call myself ‘settled.’

But I wonder…do people see me as a Yorkshire Lass?

I hope not, for starters, the word lass makes me want to simultaneously cringe and hit someone with a red rose.

But! I still feel this needs testing, so I turned to my good friend Buzzfeed who provide quizzes on everything! Including how Yorkshire you are! The way you are tested on how Yorkshire you are is by ticking whether you’ve done certain things, said things include but are not limited to…

  • Calling someone ‘love’
  • Feeling ‘groggy’
  • Having ‘dinner’ at 1pm

Nothern thing- not Yorkshire thing!

  • Thanking a bus driver

Are people rude everywhere else? You should always thank your bus drivers people!

  • Calling someone you like a Dickhead
  • Paying less than a fiver for a pint
  • Eaten a Yorkshire pudding as a starter

There is nothing wrong with a Yorkshire pudding and gravy as a starter…


So there were 80 ‘things’ to say you’ve done and I got 26…




Which means I’m not especially Yorkshire!


I prefer to think of myself as a dusty pink rose…

In other news! Check this out!




So to sum up…

I can’t unblock a sink, I’m not very Yorkshire but Beagles are cute.

And- you should always, always, thank you bus driver!

Have a nice evening!

Year 2 Blog 15- Trying To Control The Upchuck Reflex On A Train

So here I am, a very sorry hungover mess on what appears to be the most humid train ever…

I am currently downing a red bull and trying to eat some wine gums in a vague attempt at doing the hair of the dog thing…

What? Wine gums don’t count?

Why am I such a failure at life?

I haven’t drank properly in months. Literally months, i also weigh a lot less since the last time I got drunk…

In other words, I’m a cheap date.

I’m off work, I had a nice day with the other half- what was the harm in a few drinks? Oh how very wrong I was!

Although- this is the most delayed reaction known to man. I gave up drinking about half twelve last night (after putting away half a bottle of Asda’s cheaper, stronger and nastier version of peach schnapps) and woke up at 6am feeling extremely hungover, I then rolled back over for a couple more hours to feel as fresh as a daisy.

However! At about 1.30pm- I started to feel…

Well, I think the best word would be iffy and have since been getting progressively worse to the point where I almost fell asleep on the bus and nearly puked at Bradford interchange.

I know, I know- classy lady!

So now I’m waiting for the wine gums to infuse into my blood stream so I can be vaguely presentable for seeing my parents for the first time in about 6 weeks because otherwise they’re just going to get a sweaty, shaking mess…

I’m trying to get through Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets but I just can’t do it! How can I picture another world when every fibre of my being is currently being used to keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach….

So in the words of every other twenty two year old out there…

Never again!

Year 2, Blog 14- Scented Candle Protocol

Ok something has happened…

Something wonderful, yet terrible, has happened.

A new Dunelm Mill has opened near me.

I know- I fear I may have built things up a bit too much there.

For those who don’t know, Dnuelm Mill is a store that sells home stuff.

Amazing home stuff.

I used to think if I won the lottery I’d travel the world or buy a car.

Now I just think I’d buy Dunelm Mill.

All of it. Including the store- and just make it my mansion.

And it would be the most stylish mansion ever!

I wouldn’t, however, keep the staff. Because one of them really creeped me out yesterday.

Unfortunately I haven’t won the lottery so I had to reign myself in on my trip to Dunelm Mill yesterday. I blame the other half, he works in a store just across the car park from the new Dunelm Mill and I went to go see him and just couldn’t resist going in. But I found a few nice things- including some amazing tea light candles that smell fricking amazing. I got some lime, mango and papaya and some cherry ones. I took them to the till and a rather lovely looking gentlemen served me.

I know what you’re thinking- Amy, this is all sounding really good so far.

And you’d be right, I thought my luck was in. It seemed like he batted for the other team and the other half was safely at work so I thought, no harm done in noticing he was rather lovely but then things got intimate…

Way too fast.

He was scanning my lime candles and then he lifted them up and had a sniff.

It wasn’t a quick sniff- it was a proper long and awkward inhale.

As he put them back down he then tried to break the tension by saying ‘good choice there’

I recovered whilst he scanned my tea towels and my forks (I am convinced the forks in my flat go into hiding. Or, maybe I’ve just accidentally chucked them in the bin when clearing my plate) and I thought we’d passed the awkward stage. Then he picked up the mango and papaya candles. The dread spread through me.

I mean, what’s the protocol here?! How are you supposed to act when a complete stranger inhales your candles?!

But he didn’t do it with the mango ones (maybe he has a fetish for the smell of limes?!) and went on to my face cloths but then we moved on to the cherry ones. And again, he scanned them with no issues (therefore cementing my theory that he has a fetish for the smell of limes) so I thought we were safe.

But he didn’t put things in the bag as he was scanning them, he just packaged them all in bulk at the end where he piled up all three packs and put them to his nose and inhaled.


He lingered with the candles for way too long before declaring they smelled like a fruit salad.

He had tainted my candles! It doesn’t matter how gorgeous he is, he can’t just go round defiling my candles!

It just felt wrong when I lit some yesterday.

But they did smell like a fruit salad. Dammit!


Year 2 Blog 13- Munchkins Are Unnecessary

“No one mourns the wicked!

No one cries they won’t return!

No one lays a lily on their grave!”

I cannot believe it has been over three days since I was sat in the Leeds Grand Theatre hearing those lyrics.

Yes- I went to go see Wicked the musical on Saturday and Oh my God- it was fricking amazing.


I find it hard to explain how overwhelming I find watching it and hearing the songs. I still don’t think to this day my parents understand why I broke down in sobs when we first went to see it in London two years ago but it’s just incredible moving to me.

I never really get that feeling of pure magic with anything else. I’m finding it hard to explain- it’s almost like that child-like awe/wonder. I get goosebumps, a lump in my throat and I’m just completely lost it in and it doesn’t look like something on stage to me, it just looks like this amazing world that I’m a part of…

The other half just text me and I completely lost my train of thought.

Damn- since when did I turn into a fourteen year old girl?

Maybe I’m just over reacting with all the feels about Wicked…

PLUS! It’s pretty much the story of the Wizard of Oz without the Munchkins…

Which just makes it ten times better.

There was just no need for them in the Wizard of Oz.

Those things freaked the shit out of me as a child.

Who am I kidding? They still freak the shit out of me.

Along with Oompa-Loompas.

It’s no wonder I have to watch Disney all the time, I can’t even handle perfectly normal childhood movies.

So yes, Wicked was completely amazing. Quite different experiences watching it in London and Leeds- Leeds’ theatre is much smaller which makes every seem more intense… There’s a scene with the Wizard of Oz that scares the crap out of you when you see it in Leeds because there’s not as much room for the loud sounds to get absorbed…

I’m trying really hard to explain without giving spoilers- which means I’m crap at explaining because I just want to tell you everything!

If you’ve never been to a show I would always recommend Wicked. I went with my friend Emma who has only been to see a musical once and it was Hairspray and they’re so completely different but she described it very well by saying it’s a very ‘epic’ show.

And it so is!

And one more thing….


He’s a bit of alright isn’t he?

I know, I know! But I’m just looking!

As if  the new man in my life is the only reason why the above gentlemen is unachievable….

Those pants would have to go through (and be replaced by other pants, mind out of the gutter!) high waisted, skin tight, green pants…

Get away!

Year 2 Blog 13- I Would Be A Porn Star If My Name Wasn’t So Shit

I got into a conversation about being a porn star today…

It’s not like I had work or anything?

Let the record show that I have never been nor will I ever be a porn star. There is one simple reason for this…

My porn star name sucks!

So to get your Porn Star name you take the name of your first pet and the street name you grew up on. That is the real, non cheat version. Some pansies tend to do their middle name and their pet’s name…

That is a cop out because it always ensures there’s a normal name in there.

But I’m not a cheater so my Porn Star name would be….

pornstarnameYes, that’s right.

Pickles Wigan.

Thanks to the cat that was originally called Lucy but somehow changed to Pickles and living on the most unimaginative street ever I would have been ladened with this if I decided to take on the ambitious career of a Porn Star.

To be fair the Cop out version would leave me with Louise Pickles- which also doesn’t sound very appealing.

So there we have it, the only reason I’m not a Porn Star.

What would yours be?

I feel like tomorrow I’ll do a post about what search engine terms have been used to find my blog over a 24 hour period. It could get quite interesting….

In other news- the yet unnamed other half (maybe I should find out his porn star name and use it as nickname for the blog) is considering starting a blog too as he also likes writing. I also think he got quite giddy when he found out he was, as he said, ‘blog famous’ now he’s been mentioned for three days running…

Oh the dizzying heights of 291 followers and 12,800 page views (half of which are my mother)

He sent me his first blog post to read over and oh my god…

He’s going to have a better blog than me!

This cannot be happening. I feel like I need to step up my game, he’s there throwing in film and literary quotes and they all actually fit into the blog (whereas I’ll use the loosest links ever to use a Harry Potter meme)  and everything’s spelt correctly…

Whereas I’ve just rambled on for five minutes about a Porn Star Name….

Guys- I know you’ll stay on Team Amy (oh yes, it’s time to pick sides!) but oh dear, oh dear….

I may be a little bit worried…


I’m sure I told him I wasn’t competitive…

But, you know, game on.


Year 2 Blog 12- You Don’t Like Disney? Shut Up!

Two blogs in two days- be still my beating heart!

I’m currently on my living room floor feeling very inspired by this bad boy…



I know, I know- I moan about my flat so much in the winter but these views during the summer definitely make up for it.

Okay, so I dropped a bombshell on you all yesterday.




Now that you’ve all had time to get over the shock that I’m not actually becoming the modern day Miss Havisham I can talk about it in a little bit more detail. People keep asking me what he’s like- personality and looks wise and I find it hard to explain.

Yes, the aspiring writer struggles to describes thing. This really bodes well for me…

I don’t know- when we think about it and talk about it we just say we’re the boy/girl version of each other. We’re not going around shouting ‘twinsies!’ at each other over everything. Mainly because we’re not American teenage girls but we do have a lot in common. He enjoys writing and being creative. He’s makes pizza which is always a plus. I just think he’d rather watch a football game than a Disney movie…

Things can will change.

It’s been a while since I’ve done this- had to consider someone else’s views, think about them and accommodate them into my life and, that’s not a bad thing, I’m loving him being around but you realise quickly there are some things to learn and to remember. So here’s what I’ve discovered…

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fully grown, independent, strong woman, you can still be reduced to fits of giggles like a thirteen year old girl.


That, because of lack of sleep (from just talking!) you find ways of disguising your rock bottom productivity levels in other areas of your life…

sleeping on tmill

How much better you look in normal life as a result of making sure you look good for dates…


Normally you look like the lady on the right. Like, all the time.


How much better your house looks in normal life as a result of making sure it looks good for impromptu visits…



Hey, at least he saved you from appearing on a Life of Grime

Everything he does is cute…



Oh, you called me your ex’s name?* Of course I’ll still sleep with you!

You start to discover the deal breakers….

You called me your ex’s name? No problem.

What’s that- you don’t like Disney or Christmas?


You get to relive all the stupid shit you’ve done…

Oh you know, when it’s new you want to know everything about each other….

And you have to think up all the facts about yourself…

And live through the shame once again…


He even knows about my childhood talent of being able to projectile vomit and he’s still around.

You know, once he established it is a talent I no longer possess…

(*Side note- I haven’t actually been called the ex’s name. But any excuse to use a Friend’s related GIF!)

So I hope they all taught you want it is like to make the transition from single into dating/relationship status. Forget all the hearts and roses and Disney Love songs…

 It’s a struggle.

Also- The named Coke bottles are back?! They obviously didn’t read my blog last year about this shit because they’re back and I’ve yet to find an Amy one…

I had to pick a ‘Melanie’ today.

Nothing against the name but it’s hardly Amy is it…

If I see another Emmanuelle I think it might put Mentos in all the Coke bottles.

All of them

And watch them burn!

The Dark Knight (2008)



Year 2 Blog 11- I’m On To A Tangent

Okay I have some news…

I didn’t want this to be a big announcement but I don’t it to be a massive deal.

So why have I just made it sound like a big deal?!

Anyway, I’m seeing someone.

There! I said it.

I’ve been holding it in for about a week.

Which is my sad excuse for no blog. I kept trying to write one hinting at it, I also kept trying to write one just avoiding the subject all together…

But I couldn’t do it!

Which makes me sad.

You can all blame my parents for being on holiday until today. I didn’t really want them to read it on a blog but now we’re safe!

But yes, It’s early days so I’m not going to be calling him Mr Amy Who? anytime soon but, you know what, that really doesn’t matter. I’m happy enough and at peace enough in my own life to just see how it goes and for it to be a very nice edition to my already nice life.

I think in the past I’ve always wanted to feel something else- whether that be more grown up, more independent, like I’ve got my shit together. But now I am all those things.

But if I did give him a nickname we could be like Carrie and Mr Big from Sex & The City…

Which would be like my dream life…

Maybe nicknames carry a bigger weight than I thought. This requires some thought.

So yeah, things are good.

I won’t tell you too much about him for several reasons- mainly to protect his identity from the hoards (?) of excitable Amy Who readers. He lives close to me, he makes me happy and he’s also very scarily similar to me.

Although, not with Disney. I mean, he’s never seen the Lion King. This may require some serious conversations further down the line.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had this with someone- whether it be someone you’re seeing/a friend/a complete stranger- where you just so easily fall into step with them and that you don’t spend your entire life having to second guess what they’re thinking or what they’re going to say next or that they’re not going to like what you’re about to say.

I’ve kind of got that with him. I sometimes feel like the most awkward person in the world and constantly singing along to a different beat…

Or some other metaphor that makes more sense.

But with him it’s easy and I don’t worry about being myself which is an extremely freeing feeling. We talk, and laugh, a lot and I’m not used to that. On here, I could talk for hours and hours about my life without a second thought and I’ve never met any of you (besides the avid readers that are my parents and aunties) but when someone is real and in front of me- I struggle.

But not with him.

Some people may say it’s fast and over the past week and a half we’ve seen each other a lot and when we haven’t we’ve been talking a lot but I don’t know. I think I’m starting to realise that you only get one life and I’m not saying I’m head over heels in love and we’re going to run off and get married next week but I don’t see the point in doing the hard to get/keep it cool thing….

This is slowly turning into ‘Life lessons with Amy’

Maybe I could market that and also, somehow, subliminally make everyone love Disney…

I’m on to something here.

Yes, a tangent…

I’ve also just noticed a big fat spider on my wall. That’s the thing with pristine white walls- they made spiders look way more ferocious than they really are.

Still, it’s making me all itchy.