Tag: Lifestyleblog

Home Owner at 21 – Part One: The Savings

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First of all I want to state that this isn’t a brag, yes i’m proud of what myself and john have achieved and want to share it but I in no means mean to boast about it. I’m writing this because I said I would be transparent in everyday life and not just the life portrayed online, which is all unicorn lattes and designer dresses. I have split this into two blog posts because its quite a long one and I think can be categorised into two sections: one being, the whole savings and the lead up to being able to make an offer for a mortgage and the second being the process of actually buying the house and the (horrific) struggle of securing it.

Buying a house is not easy, without a helping hand it is near to impossible, but I am going to share my journey at becoming a home owner at the age of 21 and as morbid as it sounds, but imma be honest (because it would be something id consider if I read this, probs cause i’m a psycho)  but no, no one had to die for me to inherit the money to buy a house. (There was many near deaths on my part during this ordeal but I can safely say no one died in the process of buying this house).

There has been a lot of news in the press about the fact that millennials nowadays are most likely never going to afford to get on the property ladder, and whilst this is vaguely true if we are stereotyping the sociological aspects of a millennial, not all young adults can be grouped by this.

In society teenagers and young adults have a typecast of living the #studentlife and whilst some people do like to ride the journey of being the labelled student, binge drinking the £1 shots every night, living out of the overdraft and relying on the words ‘I’m a student’ to justify the fact that your future is still unknown and make yourself feel better, that right now you are just enjoying life and don’t particularly have a plan. There are a vast growing majority of others who, whatever their circumstance or reasoning are having to think about supporting themselves and their families in the long run – in the right now. (I’m not saying that students don’t acknowledge their post uni life, i’m stating that in society it is stereotyped in that way.)

I have a lot of friends who, like myself, got small jobs to support themselves in their teenage years and I also have friends who haven’t worked a day in their life and focused on their education. Neither is right or wrong.

When I was turning 16 my parents forced me (quite literally would’ve dragged me if they had to) to get a Saturday job, and despite my reluctant tries at getting out of this, I ended up working at a children’s farm, in their café. If only I realised what a great job that was then, because I would be so happy to have that job now, working 6 hours amongst animals making coffee and having no pressure of anything, but yknow I was 16 and wanted to get drunk on a Friday night without the repercussions of having to get up at 7am the next day.

Since then I have worked various jobs, part time and full time in different areas of life, I didn’t go to sixth form and instead got an apprenticeship (one in which I have absolutely no use for now in life, may I add) and having been earning the dollar since 16.

It was only from around 18 that I decided to start putting little bits away, sometimes left over money at the end of the month would go into a savings account I had set up or the odd coins from a shift at the pub would go into a smash only money bank, where it was not too easy to get back to it.

I am gonna be transparent with you, I was not an introvert or a “bore”, almost every day in my late teens I would be out drinking and partying, spending money on cigarettes and overly priced burger van food and well, I can openly say I was not someone who saved money enough to let it ruin having a good time.

You don’t need to give up having a social life in order to save money. It may slow down the process in getting to your end goal, but it isn’t something that you have to forfeit just to save up what you want/need.

When I was 18 I worked 3 consecutive jobs, whilst living with ME and Crohns and maintaining a social life and enabling myself to put away a few extra pennies. I could not do this now because at the ripe age of 22 I’m a full blown grandma and my body cant even handle a once a month sesh, let alone a working one (but the progression of my medical issues are to blame for this). Monday to Friday , 10-4 I did my apprenticeship, then on Wednesdays and Fridays I would work 7 – close (note how from 4 – the start of my second job I would be in the pub because I always thought being a little merry to work made me work better, yes, I was an idiot) at my local bar. On Saturday nights and Sunday daytimes I would work for an events company, doing waitressing, wedding set ups, conferences and bar work. These were all in the same area in which I made all my friends and also did my socialising, so I was surrounded by the people I wanted to be with and earning money at the same time. However, in the long run I would not recommend doing this, the phrase ‘don’t shit where you eat’, comes to mind and this played a huge part in my undoing later in life (yes, its as dramatic as it sounds, haha).

I didn’t have a lot of outgoings, I was living with my parents and would pay them a small fee of £100 a month in rent, I had my phone bill of around £40 a month, my travel pass which was also £40 a month and then any non essentials (like a takeaway pizza or an unneeded pair of new pjs) I would pay for myself. My mom and dad still supplied me with the essentials that were household items, i.e, shampoo and conditioner, food that would be for a family meal and would treat me often to a new piece of clothing so I wouldn’t have to fork out for myself, so I lived a cushy life really. Because I was only earning around £500 a month in total it meant I had a decent amount left over every month after paying out what I needed to. I wouldn’t hold back on my spending, if I wanted to treat myself to a new top or the latest make up palette, I would do, however ive never really had majorly expensive tastes. Primark has and will always be my best friend but I can be persuaded by a Michael kors bag or god forbid I see something (EVERYTHING) in Oliver Bonas. Instead any (if any) money I had on my next pay day left over from the previous pay day I would then transfer that into my savings.

E.G:

If I received a £500 paycheck on the 6th of the month, on the 6th of the following month anything left from that original £500 (could be anything from £1 – £200, realistically) would go into another account and I would start fresh at £500 again. So the 6th of every month I had £500 in my account, no more, even if I hadn’t spent all of my previous £500. (Hopefully that makes sense)

*Because I worked separate jobs, pay days would vary but I would stick to one day in the month to round up and transfer any leftovers.

Since then, I have continued to live by the same rule, even now when I don’t have a permanent full time job I try to put away little bits that are leftover each time a new payment comes in. But instead of it being one day a month it is on a job by job basis now.

This is a slow building process but it allows that extra emergency money when you need it, whether it was to save up for a holiday or for a piece of furniture, that is the method I use in order to save up for those luxuries.

Now back to the less technical part after I’ve bored you all with finances…

I had always had this emergency money that would build up, be emptied and build up again and in January 2015 I left home to move in with my boyfriend John. John is older than myself (by a fair bit) and he already had an established career, he earnt over quadruple what I was earning (approx) and had the knowledge and wisdom that came with living life. He was renting a small two bedroom, two up, two down house in kings heath and I moved in with him there. He continued to pay the full rent but I would then pay other bills, the council tax, food shopping, and although our earnings were nowhere near equal we both looked after each other, I would pay what I could, where I could. John has never expected me to pay for something I cannot afford, he has never made me feel pressured because he earns a high wage and I cannot always maintain the same substantial amount every month to contribute but we work together and live comfortably and equally.

We had been living in this two bed house for around 6 months when things were becoming obviously a ‘waste of money,’ We could not refurbish or redecorate the house and little things were just pretty poor. The bathroom leaked and flooded everytime you had a shower, the floor was coming up and the kitchen units were not grouted or sealed in place correctly, meaning the walls were crumbling and the units were becoming mouldy. Don’t even get me started on the garden…

The cost of living in this house was extortionate, when you leave home for the first time, you know there are bills to pay that no one ever mentions or your parents don’t ever tell you they cover but you never fully realise until each day a new bill arrives. Its not just a cost of surviving, (rent, food, essentials, luxuries) its costs for things you don’t even realise you need (a tv licence, the electric bill, the wifi, the water, insurance.) Things I’d never even considered, I never even knew you had to pay for a tv licence, and the wifi I thought was paid by the magical broadband fairy. I thought water came from taps for free and I could turn on and off the lights or the heating as I pleased so when dad always followed us around switching everything back off I thought he was a mad man. But they cost money, sometimes A LOT of money.

All in all living in the 2 bed house was costing us over £1400 a month and what did we actually have? We had a nettle jungle and four plain white pebble dashed walls that we couldn’t touch. We didn’t own anything, we were paying that amount to simply live in someone else’s house and pay for the upkeep of their property. We also had some creepy neighbours who were controlled by their dog and didn’t speak to each other (but that’s a whole other story).

After a lot of conversations over too many ciders we came to the conclusion that we really needed to start saving up more a month and think about getting our own place, so in the long run our money was being put into something we could actually own. An investment. However how could we possibly save up enough money to put down a deposit on a house whilst still forking out enough to live in the meantime?

This is where our family have been incredible. And without them, it wouldn’t have been possible. We approached our families and suggested moving back home, we would cover our own expenses, give them some rent a month and live in their house with them until we could save up enough to move out again.

They crazily accepted, mom because she secretly wanted me back home (and couldn’t cook so was happy to have me back to cook her food for her, sorry mom but its true) and dad I don’t think really had a choice after mom had decided. So Monday to Friday me and john lived in my parents conservatory, which sounds lovely, but it was hard work. No nighttime, no silence, no privacy, we were sleeping in the middle of a glass room like animals on show at the circus. The adjustment to having to follow someone else’s rules again was frustrating, for myself and for my parents. I’d gotten used to buying and eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and now I was like a child again being told ‘don’t stay up too late you’ll be tired in the morning’ the standard parental lectures that ill soon be instilling on my child. On the weekends we would stop at John’s parents to give mine a bit of privacy and time to themselves.

We were now able to save up a larger amount each month and had decided that £1k a month minimum be put aside into savings to go towards buying a house. This theoretically was like continuing to pay our lifestyle back in kings heath, but instead of the money going into a private landlords pocket it was going into our own savings account.

We lived with this arrangement for 9 whole months, and that wasn’t the difficult part. The hard part of securing a mortgage, putting down the deposit and actually purchasing a house was the excruciating part.

 

End of Part one.

Make sure you are following the blog to be notified when part two is published and find out the struggle of actually buying a house as a young first time buyer.

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Ngl, Pregnancy kinda sucks!?

I know its been quite the while since I last posted and promised to be more attentive with the blog but I’ve been fairly busy with my head in a sick bowl.

Whoever said pregnancy is supposed to be the loveliest 9 months of your life was clearly a joker and my previous two pregnancies had me fooled. Now i know the whole concept of pregnancy is so wonderful, a life is growing (extremely slowly and painfully) inside you and your life and body is changing for the better and all that bullshit but to be quite honest, its actually pretty shit isn’t it?

For starters, my handbag has now been emptied of expensive perfume, light coverage makeup for touch ups and all things girly that are assumed to be hiding around in there. Instead I have jars of vitamins, some granny looking headache stick so I don’t go blind from these ‘pregnancy migraines’, foundation thick enough to disguise my appearance completely, and copious amounts of ugly panty liners, cause someones gotta say it, girls the amount of random shit that’s coming out of your vagina is not pre-warned or talked about! Okay you don’t get a period, but you piss yourself every day for  6 months straight if someone makes a joke and lets not discuss the latter. All i’m saying is no period for 9 months is no cause for the sexy thongs, you want those granny pants more than ever!

Every week I get a notification saying what week in my pregnancy I am in and how big the baby is now, which okay is cute, but instead of telling me my baby is now the size of some exotic vegetable ill never eat, how about telling me that at this week my boobs are gonna explode into mismatched bag of potatoes and ill be freeing the nipple for the next 4 months because no bras fit?

You’ll be blooming soon everyone keeps saying, but im struggling to understand how one can bloom without starting the day with a strong coffee or being allowed to devour a whole camembert for lunch?

‘Your skin may start changing now’ the midwife told me at our last appointment to which I was eagerly awaiting the morning I looked in the mirror to discover I was no longer a reincarnated Michael Jackson and my skin was glowing and full of colour. What I seem to have developed instead, is a reptilian trait of shedding my skin every day, my face is literally peeling faster than the snakes that live in the corner of my dressing room. Also, to add to the long list of nice things us pregnant women can’t have, we add hair dye. I was quite happily continuing my façade of being a natural light blonde and ignoring the fact that my hair had turned into a grey brownish colour by keeping up with my roots every few months. The confusion when people tried to work out whether it was my hair or my eyebrows that were the real deal was a much preferred first world problem (both are fake incase you hadn’t worked that out) because now im walking around with proper ‘council house’ hair, it’s a good job its winter because im living in hats so no one knows my true identity. The best thing about us moving to burton is the fact that I am 95% anonymous and I don’t have to bump into anyone I know for them to offer me some change and directions to the nearest St Basils.

We are nearing the midway point of my pregnancy and with that comes the gender reveal, probably the most exciting milestone in the pregnancy and everyone keeps asking me whether I will be finding out. To which the answer is of course I am, I’m not a philistine. I will be spending the rest of my pregnancy hoarding every single gender related item I can, so yes, I will be finding out the sex, (If the second child is a different gender they’ll just have to lump it cause everyone knows you go all out for the first and the second gets the leftovers). However, finding out the gender isn’t all that simple either, especially when your baby thinks your womb is some sort of Guantanamo bay and must escape any detection. It’s hard to tell whether I am feeling them moving, despite the fact the midwife informs me they are constantly wriggling away when she tries to use the doppler, because im not too sure what im expecting to feel? Having Crohns, I have a load of weird feelings inside my body like a Chest-Burster is gonna be born any day (Dropping in Alien references so John shuts the F*&k up) and so its hard to tell what is the baby moving and was is just a fart building up. We have tried many different techniques to try to get the baby to do a 180 just so we can tell the difference between constipation and a baby kick. At around 16 weeks your baby can detect light and will turn away from it, so we have been using our phone torches as some sort of siege to terrorise our child to ‘come out with its hands up.’ (Not literally come out I mean like show yourself, im already having a heart attack thinking about childbirth and ive still got 4 months left).

Finally, its not a secret that with pregnancy comes a whirlwind of hormones, whether it changes physical attributes or your mental state it is important to report any changes to your dr or midwife. But im not sure my midwife was expecting to have such a paranoid pregnant woman on her, when she said you can text me at any time I don’t think she was expecting me to be like a bad smell and be texting her like ‘I’ve had diarrhoea and three farts in one go, is this normal? Is the baby still alive!? Have i gassed them!?’ ‘I’ve got hair growing in weird places, is this normal!?’ ‘I can’t stop eating olives, does this mean my baby will have good skin?’ ‘I rolled onto my back for like 10 seconds, have I killed my child!?” “Can you tell me if it’s a boy or a girl based on my symptoms? Go on! Just give me a guess?!’ Needless to say I bet she is looking forward to me having this baby more than I am. John has gone into a vegetative state of nodding with glazed eyes and saying ‘Yes, everything’s fine, here have some Mcnuggets” (HINT HINT. MCDONALDS SPONSER MY POSTS!)  to shut me up when I’m having a 2007 Britney meltdown.

As usual, I will end the post with a little positive disclaimer, because if you hadn’t already gathered I have a dry sense of humour but some people still seem to think im deadly serious in my posts. Obviously, there are negatives and positives to all pregnancies and I am thoroughly enjoying the experience of becoming a mother and can’t wait for the baby to come despite any nasty symptoms. There are also a hundred different things going on and I cant fit them all into a readable blog post.

*Featured photo designed and shot by Hayley Leaver Photography, click here to see more of her stuff.

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We Bought A House

So, by the title of this it’s pretty obvious what this little update is going to be about; moving out. It’s been 9 months…not that I’ve been counting every treacherous day being in a conservatory or anything…but we are finally at the day we are leaving what can only be described as what life would be like living in the blitz. I don’t mean that mom and dad are Nazi’s (just to clarify – debateable to Alex probably) but one minute you’re trying to sleep with the sun blazing through your eyelids in a sauna to thunderous bangs of rain on the top of a conservatory roof, wind blowing all the trees onto the windows and a blinding car light every few seconds waking you up like someone’s just shone an interrogation torch into your corneas. Needless to say, I cannot wait for a solid brick wall and a real roof.

I’d be lying if I said I won’t miss being back at home I mean I actually have to make my own cups of tea now, but it’s going to be quite lonely not being woken up at 4am as Alex comes back from some Chav bar, slamming all the doors and complaining about her lack of money despite the fact she has about £300 on her eyelids. I won’t be able to come home to find the front door wide open and my parents passed out on the floor or watch as dad gets so drunk he thinks it’s funny to start setting off paint grenades in the garden or forcing me to sniff chilli until I cry. I won’t have the power of mom to rule the tv for me every time I want to watch EastEnders or go on secret shopping trips where we end up pretending to be sophisticated ladies of leisure drinking prosecco in the middle of the day with john and dad’s bank cards. Then Margo, (who obviously I’ll miss the most) I won’t get to cuddle up to because homeLuna’s the only dog to ever hate affection or have her wipe her bloody bits over my sheets when I’ve just changed them or hump every object I own. I will miss home but knowing me I’ll be back haunting them all every weekend.

First of all, I’ve never known hell like buying a house. It has taken almost 5 months and a shit ton of money to get to the day we can finally move all the crap we (John) have hoarded. We found the house after finding what we thought was the perfect 2 bed home on a quiet road just on the Boldmere/Erdington border but when making an offer of the asking price we got rejected a mortgage. I’ve decided that for the rest of my life I am looking after my credit score more than my own life because one payment of £65 on an old Nokia phone that john lost on my 19th birthday in a drunken gay bar, lost us that house. £65.00 almost 3 years ago. I cried for hours and hours and the struggle for saving enough money for a house the same price was practically impossible, especially when to get a mortgage now we needed 15% deposit rather than the standard 10%, but as a believer that things are meant to be sometimes, it meant we found our house now. When I was in a major strop thinking id be stuck at moms forever being forced to watch Judge Rinder, I looked at houses on the market along the Birmingham train line. A house came up 0.1miles from the train station for cheaper than any house we had been looking at here in Birmingham, it just meant travelling around 10 more minutes to Birmingham centre than we were already doing from Sutton. We travelled to Burton upon Trent kind of defeated, thinking it would be pointless but nonetheless it was an easy way for john to get out of work early. But on the train we started into the countryside and I was just in awe. We looked around the house and it was huge in comparison to what we had been looking at for a higher price, 3 beds and a bathroom as big as the master bedroom, two reception rooms, a hallway, a modern(ish) kitchen, a utility and a large garden, we just fell in love. It didn’t matter that we were 20 miles away from home because the house just felt perfect. We took a whim after talking to our advisor and solicitor and offered under the asking price on the grounds the garden had no grass and there was no parking, and they accepted. I thought now y’know you sign the contract, you hand over the deposit, you get the keys, but no. It has taken so many weeks, so many signatures, searches, surveys, declarations, everything (none of which are free mind) until we have finally got the keys. It has been soul destroying, I didn’t even realise that a mining search was a thing or that you can’t be a homeowner without taking out life insurance? (Not that I’m complaining I mean I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to be able to kill john off now for a healthy profit) but honestly, I’ve never been so drained of words I have no idea the meaning of or money for someone just nodding a head in my life.

salesignThe town we are moving to is small, known as the national forest and on the river Trent, the house is in the town centre next to the church and a farmers’ market every Sunday, 5 minutes from the river Trent and more importantly a giant shopping centre. I’m so happy with the area, not knowing much about it before we took a chance and made an offer but it has definitely paid off. Jaiden loves it and I’ve already taken him to the college there, trying to convince him that it’s the best college in the world and he must attend as a matter of life or death. The house is next door to a café which sells cream teas so I know what I’ll be doing in the daytime and then a traditional old man pub (Like the good old anchor) at the end of the road which no doubt ill spend half my time looking for john in when he hasn’t returned home from work. 

I know a lot of you that follow me are first time buyers also and are into interior design so I plan on doing a post about the house once we have moved in to show you all, but right now there is half ripped up floor and wallpaper, (I’m too impatient to wait till we are actually in to get shit done) boxes everywhere and just junk from like the 1980’s john has decided he must keep.

I never know how to end posts so I’m just gonna put a disclaimer now that most of them are gonna just end abruptly to avoid me sitting here pondering over how to end it.

xo

Mini ‘What’s in my hospital bag?’

I’ve seen a lot of these going round and purely because I promised myself I would post on Monday, the fact I’m doing anything in my power to not have to watch The Full Monty with my mom AGAIN  and  have an excuse as to why I was too lazy to do john’s washing…  I have decided to go with this as it was the quickest and easiest thing to conjure up on short notice. It also got me up off my arse and actually pack my bag instead of leaving it to the very last minute like I usually do. The reason I’ve put ‘mini’ is because let’s be honest there is going to be a hell of a lot of unnessesary crap also going in my bag, but I feel like your eyes don’t need to be opened to the actual amount of junk food and packets of haribo tangfastics I get through or the less indulgent things like bloody granny nappies.

Processed with VSCO with a5 presetAs requested I tried (Edit: and failed) to add as many links to things as possible, but I’m a bit of a last season whore and a lot of my stuff probably went off the sale rack in 1998.  I don’t have the classic white fluffy rug or a sassy marble counter so I had to improvise with a (very) crinkled grey sheet and not that great a photos, so apologies there for the little effort I put into the images.

I know for the majority of my stay I’ll be in pyjamas and if my daily life is anythProcessed with VSCO with a5 preseting to go by, I probably won’t be getting out of them unless absolutely necessary. So in true British fashion of complaining about the weather, I started off with short pyjamas because in case you missed all the Facebook status’ or tweets, its very hot outside in the uk right now. Hospitals are generally hot anyway because for an unknown reason old people love to sit in saunas, in full skiing outfits and still be cold, and going off my last experience, I don’t plan on having another argument on whether the window should be open or closed. I have a striped co-ordinate pj set from topshop which are majorly stretchy and although I hate bagginess, its perfect to hang low off my wound whilst it’s healing. The rest, as you can imagine (like the majority of this post) are from Primark. The Blue silk shorts and the blue cami with embroidered flowers are sold Processed with VSCO with a5 presetseparately but mega cheap and come in Blue, Pink or White (I think), Although probably inappropriate for hospital, I thought they were really cute. From their sports range I got the grey and pink jogging shorts, they come pretty baggy and pretty far up your arse crack which again isn’t majorly appropriate but at least I have a quick escape root, haha….To wear randomly throughout my stay I’ve got multiple colours of their £3 ‘Hanging T-shirts’.

More for ‘Lounge wear’ I have my trusted Hollister joggers, they’ve seen more hospital visits than I can count so I’m Processed with VSCO with a5 presetpretty sure the nurses by now think I have no other clothes. I also have some M&S (fitting in with my future roommates) pink checked cotton pj bottoms which are super Processed with VSCO with a5 presetlight, thin and baggy and so will be perfect to move around easily in. Then towards the end of the week I have slim fit black and white joggers and a zip up faded grey tee from topshop so I can start to look a little bit more like a normal 21 year old and not some washed out homeless granny.

Purely for the fun factor and general truth of this I’m taking my ‘bored’ brigProcessed with VSCO with a5 presetht pink sweatshirt from Primark’s loungewear range. Not only is it in your face, but it not-so-subtly points out to the dr’s that I am infact extremely bored and unamused by my current situation. I also look forward to the hilarious jokes they will all make in reference to it when they do their rounds of serving really shit stingy cups of tea.

Also because Beauty and the beast is my absolute fave, I will be taking this super adorable chip T-shirt (as you can tell noProcessed with VSCO with a5 presetne of these clothes have been ironed – nor do I plan on ironing them) which was only £6 from the Disney collection – once again from my trusty friend Primark. Processed with VSCO with a5 preset

 

I have high expectations that if the pure stench of shit doesn’t upset my roommates or the doctors that my extremely stinky old slippers will do the job perfectly and so they have been awarded a space in my bag along with my super fluffy copper star dressing gown. Both my slippers and my Dressing Gown are from Next.Processed with VSCO with a5 preset

Next I have my toiletry bag which is a bit like Mary Poppins’. It’s from Victoria’s Secret and my sister bought it me for Christmas. It folds out and has three small compartments, big enough for a fair amount of makeup or for toothbrushes/toothpaste, small Processed with VSCO with a5 presetperfumes, deodorant, etc and one large compartment, big enough to fit makeup palettes, hair brushes, pack of wipes and/or larger cosmetics in. It also has a coat hanger rod attached in so that when it is all unfolded you can hang it up like an item of clothing. Its waterproof (With compartments shut obviously) and a plastic material so no makeup stains it whatsoever. Also dogs cannot chew it as I have found out, thankfully, when I caught Luna with her jaws around it.

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I will also be taking my hot water bottle as I find it so comforting and fluffy and I hate the cotton ones they give you at hospitals, the material is never thick enough and you just scold yourself. Next is a novel by Jodi Picoult called ‘Leaving Time’ which was recommended to me by a friend. I love missing peoples mysteries and this one got amazing reviews on amazon. I got this book and around four others for only 1p! I’ve found whenever you want to order a book on amazon, if you

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scroll down under the basket icon it says ‘new and old from as little as 0.01’ If you click on this you can find numerous online sellers who are selling the book either secondhand or brand-new from a tradestore for nearly 100% off the original price. Just don’t get stung on delivery charges and try to order each book from the same provider if possible. You can also use amazon prime next day delivery on these items aswell so it’s

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definitely worth it! Next, because I just love writing and last time I was in hospital some completely crazy and strange things happened that I wish I’d documented, I will be taking my marble effect notebook and floral writing set so this time I can write down all the hilariously terrifying shit that goes on, on these wards (And there is a lot of nutters).  My Strawberry Tin is actually meant as a lunchbox but for two years now I have used it to keep all my medication in (well part of it because otherwise id be walking around carrying a rhino tub full if I was to take everything with me) it was only £2 from Tiger or Flying Tiger and then my chunky knit blanket from Amazon which is so soft and fluffy and is just so much nicer than the scratchy blue blankets that are standard in hospital.Processed with VSCO with a5 preset

Lastly, because no sleepover bag would be complete without some classic Disney films. Wifi in the hospital is so expensive so for the times that I cannot afford or connect to the wifi, I have some of my favourite Disney films to be able to watch to pass the time. Of course like I said previously, my personal favourite is beauty and the beast but I can literally recite pretty much every Disney film word for word

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and don’t get me started on the songs. The doctors and nurses are going to hate me so much and wont be able to wait to get rid of me because Disney tunes will be playing CONSTANTLY. Also shoutout to John who will be tasked with the chore of sitting through them with me for the billionth time.

And that’s all (sort of), I know I said earlier in the post I would tag the items but finding each individual product was a lot harder than it looked so instead ive tagged the shop homepage in case you wanted to have a look for the items yourselves.

Wish me luck!

xxx

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My Upcoming Surgery

I’ve been inundated with messages from people asking about my surgery which is so lovely so I’m going to do a little explanation of what this entails.

Basically, after years and years of tablets, infusions, injections, steroids, enemas, suppositories (you name anything for your bottom end and I’ve had it) and not to mention countless doctors, I am going down the surgical route. This means that either by keyhole or literally a slit straight down the stomach –colon I wont find out until on the table (well, me personally will find out when im awake obvs otherwise that would be terrifying) – and will be taking out 20cm of intestine, part of my colon, parts of other random bits and pieces that are too damaged and a hell of a lot of scar tissue.

The small bowel (or small intestine) is where my Crohns is most active, it is commonly used for the breaking down and absorption of nutrients but because of my Crohns, this is severely damaged and not a lot is really happening in there and so it clogs up, gets damaged and creates other ways to breakdown everything – I think, its hard to follow because each doctor says a different thing.

I have multiple fistulas in my small bowel also, which are kind of like little alleyways. The intestine coils fistularound like a weird fat worm but when a fistula is formed instead of finding its way around the intestine normally, flowing around the corners, it creates holes in the intestines walls and makes a short-cut to pass through.

The bowel resection I will be having is the removal of the diseased intestines and colon and then if there is enough healthy intestine that has not been attacked by my Crohns yet, the ends of all the little bits will be stitched or stapled back together. This is most likely what I will be having this time round. I say this time as it is unlikely I will not need further surgery because Crohns disease is a life long disease and cannot be treated, no matter how much of the disease you can surgically take out the disease will still be there lurking to take another bit later on.

However, when you do not have any healthy gut left, this is when the surgeon will create an opening called a stoma which is a hole through the skin of your stomach. The small intestine is then attached to the outer wall of your stomach (the stoma) and a bag is fitted so that any stool will pass into the bag, known as an ileostomy. This can be permanent or semi-permanent. Yes, that does literally mean that instead of winding down your intestine and lying in your stomach to be passed out of your arsehole it will come out of your intestine directly – no bumhole is damaged in this process.

So yes, that’s basically a simplified explanation of what I’m having. I’m thankful enough that I have my partner john who suffers with the other form of IBD, colitis, and he himself has had numerous surgeries. Although they did it in Spain and his interpreter was in the bed next to him with pneumonia so he couldn’t understand a word of what was happening, to which I’m fairly confident they stole his kidneys or intestines and sold them on the black market. So he understands and supports me through the process and we can both have mashed up looking stomachs together (as I know a lot of you with Crohns are worried about how your body will look post-surgery). He will argue with me till he’s blue in the face that he has a belly button but I can tell you he does not and his favourite thing to do when he’s had a drink is get his scars out and tell people he was attacked by a shark.

Also people have asked me why I have decided to do this now, to which the answer is, as I have been trying to have children for the past year or so, I have been unsuccessful and have miscarried twice. I have since found out that my Crohns has been too active and caused too much damage that my body was unable to keep the baby alive and growing normally. So after this surgery, not only will I be a hell of a lot better with my health but I may be able to carry children and have a normal pregnancy as well, which is my goal for the future.

Feel free to get in touch if you want to know more on the surgery or if you’re having it yourself and need some support.

*Diagrams from other sources

before

Farewell Intestine Party

I might be milking it a little bit here but what’s the point in going under the knife if you aren’t going to go down in style?

As previously mentioned I will be having surgery next week to remove a load of intestine, part of my colon and some other random parts I got the impression had something to do with my bottom end…unless the surgeon was indirectly calling me an asshole? Which wouldn’t surprise me because I take after my mother when it comes to chewing peoples ear off with random friendly crap. Either way, last weekend, because I will be out of action for a while now (Chilling in my paper pants that have the hole in the back so you don’t have to pull them down to shit with the looney’s again) we decided to have a little ‘drink as many fancy cocktails as possible’ day out. Also to celebrate my mom’s birthday as I will be in hospital then so her gift from me is having to look after high off morphine, vomming from every hole possible Chloe (sorry that was a little too graphic).

We started off with dad being moody for not understanding the concept of having to take a nice photo pre-drinking when my eyebrows will still be on my head and my foundation not dripping halfway down my neck. So tried to do a little ootd but it’s difficult when you’re balancing around dog shit with a back drop of chicken wire to keep the dogs from the grass. (Feel like I’ve talked about shit too much already in this post – I did warn you in my very first post). Anyway, inserting a failed ootd below….

The moody arse train driver closed the doors after me and john so my mom and dad got left behind, which after dad’s nagging I was feeling pretty smarmy about

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until I realised that meant we had to order the drinks in for them. So we went to fizz bar seen as it’s so

beautifully half-made by my other half and enjoyed people watching and drinking our Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetfirst cocktails waiting for mom and dad.

After that we stopped off at Tom’s Kitchen, which does THE most amazing lime daquiri ever and quite literally the tastiest olives I’ve ever eaten since my obsession began. Might just make a whole blog post on olives as I feel like a connoisseur of the olive tree now – it is a tree? Vine? Bush thing? Anyway… Tom’s kitchen was absolutely incredible, owned and run by the Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetmaster Tom Aiken himself, it showed off gorgeous marble interiors, a beautiful chesterfield sofa me and john have finally agreed Is going to be the sofa we are having made and luxury cocktails and food. (And fit staff but I’m not gonna go into that). Next we went to Aluna which is currently my favourite bar but dad clearly didn’t get the memo because he got kicked out for wearing trainers and apparently the security guard wasn’t taking “These are £100 Innov8’s” as a justifiable reason to be let in. So, next we took a little detour to a surprise location.

Down Gas street we found our secret location disguised as a laundrette, complete with Processed with VSCO with hb2 presethanging clothes, boxes of Persil and washing machines. When walking up the stairs we gave each other the look of ‘oh shit what am I walking into’ thinking we are about to enter the secret lair of a major drugs cartel but when we opened the door the red lights and ‘that’ smell hit us. By that smell I mean that godly scent of sticky floor, half cleaned vomit, left out beer and sweat, the beautiful aroma that is snobs – but it was better than snobs. IT HAD Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetSADDLES! I ordered a delicious cocktail called “Netflix and Chill” which is a touchy subject to say the least cause it’s been all Netflix and to john’s disgust not a whole lotta chill so with a grumpy look on his face I devoured my popcorn and caramel cocktail whilst riding on my saddle (again insert a grumpy comment from the other half). Tell you what, all bars should have saddles, they are so comfy and not to mention completely fulfils the childhood dream of being jessie the cowgirl. In reality, the last time I was on saddle was in the welsh mountains, in the rain, on a horrible horse that butted the others out the way and shat constantly, so again a refreshing change.

 

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Moving on we went to The Pickled Piglet, where we had the most unbelievable tapas that was presented so beautiful and better than my entire GCSE Art coursework (Wasn’t hard though) and drank gin from a teapot and teacup with pinkies out in true pinky fashion  (Tough guy people will understand that, the rest of you, it’ll just solidify the idea I’m a raging lunatic).

 

This is where the night gets a little fuzzy because I don’t actually know which cocktail bar we went to next but I remember having a meltdown because there was a homeless man and a dog in the rain. Completely ruined my cold-hearted persona and I dunno what came over me really, I just couldn’t stop crying for the poor dog (oh and the man Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetobvs) to be fair he probably has more money than me right now. Anyway, the next place I can deffo remember was Miller and Carter and then finally to end the day we ate food at Carluccio’s (again). Eating had to be the last thing on the list because I literally fall asleep after food but in true crohnie fashion, I stuffed my face with pasta and then proceeded to have the urge to vom it all back up again.

To further the now sobering up mood and full stomach tiredness, Dad and John decided to have a pretend fight,

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almost getting themselves run over and me stropping off like a sassy poodle (my hair was now super frizzy) and a group of guys decided to dedicate their own rendition of queen to my dad on the train, which was nice.

Then finally, to tackle the spinning room, contemplate why I ever let myself get this drunk and fearing the almighty headache in the morning, it was bedtime. I can finally say I fucked up my stomach one last time before half gets taken away from me. Success!

 

xxx

Repairing

Ok, it was pretty predictable that I was never going to be able to keep up the posts like I said I was, I knew it and you all knew it, I’m just a lazy shit, that’s nothing new. BUT I am going to try to repair this broken thread and attempt to start again, this time in a whole new, different portion of my life.

An alarming and quite overwhelming amount of people have messaged me in the past few months asking when my next post would be and when it would be up and running again. I was quite taken back by the response I got by my previous posts and didn’t realise half of you, like me are a backseat reader, lurking on the post but fully incognito and it wasn’t until you either told me to my face (little scary but appreciated) or messaged me on Instagram that I realised quite how many of you missed it, so I feel quite blessed for that. Also shout out to my mom and all her friends who seem to be my number one fans at the minute, you’re all babes. Feel like I have quite the rally and popularity at yet another doctor’s surgery, this time for nicer reasons.

Anyway, in the last few weeks I have failed at doing this blogging thing but I promise it was with good reason and not just because I decided to binge watch every single season of Game of Thrones and then become so obsessed I needed to read the books…but yeah that’s exactly what I did…

I have decided to try to continue blogging because as a lot of you know I will be admitted into hospital in the next two weeks to have life changing surgery and so I will quite physically be out of action for a long period of time, which gives me a better chance at unleashing my cabin fever on this page. (Hopefully, although I can’t guarantee because the stingy bastards at the hospital charge a fortune for wifi, I could start a fundraising page just to sponsor me getting wifi for the few weeks..? haha).

And secondly because after a very long, very stressful time living in a conservatory me and John will be getting the keys to the house we have finally bought (Unless forces beyond our control fuck us in the ass, but we are quite far along in the process that -touchwood- we are past that). And so will be leaving my hometown for my very own first house and saying goodbye to rentals. Hopefully I will be sharing the progress on the house on the blog as we go along, unless it looks bloody awful and then I obviously wont. Or I get too side tracked with mamasinteriorscrapbook stories, which are quite literally hilarious and is a nicer house for me to dream about than the building site we will be in for a while – (Seriously her hallway tiles are like ultimate tile porn). So hopefully our first home journey will be on here as well.

Thankfully enough I do already have a few posts lined up and scheduled to go live so at least I wont be lying for like, one week?

That’s about as much as I’m going to go into because my fingers are freezing and I’ve got copious amounts of chocolate and Vodka to fit in before it’s hospital time.

 

xxx