One Saturday Afternoon…

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Moved to Tears.”

I’m an incredibly emotional person and I’ll cry at a great deal of things, both sad and happy, some of which are quite stupid. I shed a tear when seven years ago, I met my new-born baby brother for the first time and I got ridiculous happy wet eyes when my rugby team won a competition last year.

I cry when I tell people about the scary thoughts in my head, and even harder as they hug me and tell me it’ll be ok. I cried as my heart was stomped into a thousand little pieces over and over and over and I could only helplessly watch.

I had tears streaming down my face as I watched Rhod Gilbert’s stand up comedy piece about Henry Hoovers for the first time and was absolutely hysterical when a mate of mine tripped and knocked over a girl in a night club and then proceeded to try it on with her while they were both in a heap on the floor. Now THAT was funny!

I was so upset reading the ending of ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ (so shoot me if you think it’s a terrible book, I disagree and think it’s beautifully written) and the most recent time I sobbed my heart out was last night watching the season five finale to Game of Thrones. 7/10 would not recommend watching it. My parents were moderately concerned until I sobbed out what was happening…they rolled their eyes and continued watching the news.

But when I saw the prompt yesterday asking me to describe the last time I cried at something beautiful, I was puzzled for a few minutes until I was transported to the exact moment that I was told such beautiful words that I couldn’t help but give myself over to the emotions that followed.

Allow me to take you back a few weeks; it was late afternoon one Saturday, deep in exam season and I was spending a few precious hours with a precious friend. We were talking, laughing, discussing life. We were incredibly, hilariously, sublimely happy.

The conversation took a more serious turn and we each aired our fears for the future and my uncertainty at my ability to cope with the rocky road of terrors laid before me. He took my hands in his, clasped them tightly and murmured the words: “I’m so proud of you”.

The simplicity of these words and the conviction with which they were delivered was the most beautiful thing I’d heard for a long time. It left me stunned and I took in the tide of calm that washed over me. The tears built up as I looked intently into his eyes and whispered “thank you”, words that never quite seemed adequate for the importance of the moment. Then I was vanquished by the hand of emotion and left damp spots on his tshirt as he gave me a comforting hug.

This may not seem quite as beautiful as a breathtaking landscape or carry as much emotion as your child grabbing your finger for the first time, but for me, the overly-emotional twenty year old, this was magnificent and gave me the strength required to go forth and take on the world. I was a happy Lizzie that day.

Now playing: Avenged Sevenfold – Seize the Day


Spring has sprung!

Picture an animal emerging from its hibernation place. It might take a couple of attempts but after waking up fully and assessing the temperature, it might emerge from its resting place, sniff the air and shake off the dust of the winter months.

It is with the same caution that I am going to make an announcement: I THINK SPRING IS FINALLY HERE!

It flirted with us for a few weeks but then the heavenly weatherman decided he wanted us to have biting winds, overcast skies and rain for just a bit longer. It was the kind of weather when you think you might be able to get away with not wearing your waterproof coat but then halfway through the day, the skies open leaving you dreading the walk home with nought but a laptop to cover your head.

But now, the cloud that gave us such a great view of the eclipse last week (please note my sarcasm…I inherited it from my dad) has lifted and we have been treated to blue skies and sun that warms the backs of your legs. It’s not too hot, still hoody weather which I’m totally ok with but I finally feel safe leaving my coat at home, opting instead for my Glamour Kills jacket.

I love the spring time. The winter gloom has been cast off and the evenings are getting lighter – it’s quarter to seven now and it’s still light outside. The sun wants us to stay out longer and make the most of these new-found hours of daylight. The bare brown branches of the trees are dotted with green buds that promise new life. The bulbs of daffodils and other springtime flowers are breaking free of the oppressive ground and starting to display their colours. I love daffodils. Apparently it’s not normal that they’re my favourite flowers, but I don’t care – there’s nothing like seeing a sea of yellow and sometimes orange flowers bobbing their heads in the breeze. You know what else I like? Seeing clumps of primroses on the sides of roads. From a distance, I always think they look like big ol’ blobs of scrambled eggs…too weird? Got it.

Look how happy and in-your-face they are!
Look how happy and in-your-face they are!

But what I really like about spring is that my mood seems to improve and I start to feel a bit happier. Winter can be really miserable – it’s horrible outside a lot of the time, it’s dark for more hours than it is light and it’s so cold. Too many shadows can fester in the depths of winter. It can be all too easy to fall into these shadows and become stuck in the winter that doesn’t seem like it will end. The winter seems to stretch on for eternity with no chance for escape or the rejuvenation of spring, with you being swept up in it’s all-encompassing wake.

But it will always arrive. As sure as the sun comes up in the morning, spring will come, and you too can be reborn and escape the clutches of winter. Today might be a really bad day, but your own personal spring will always come and you will learn and grow with it. Look around at it. Isn’t it beautiful? That’s what I love the most about the spring I think; the opportunity for new growth.

That, and the fact that I’ve managed to sneakily turn off the central heating in our house without my flatmates knowing or moaning about it being cold! Score!

Now playing: Myopia – Enter Shikari

A certain type of human…

There is a certain type of person in this world I wish to discuss. Let me tell you about this most peculiar breed.

These people are unknowingly selfish and can’t really do anything to help it. They can subject you to endless amounts of tossing and turning at night and can really kill a good night’s sleep.

They take from you the thing you love the most in the world at a really inconvenient time and can very easily send you into fits of anger to a greater extent than the 5 smug, punchable faces of One Direction winning an award for ‘Best Pop/Rock Artist’…I mean, come on, how does that not make you rage?

The particular type of human being to which I am alluding is the Lesser-Spotted Common Garden Duvet Hog

duvet hog

The duvet hog or duvet whore if you prefer is the assassin of deep sleep, the murderer of that awesome dream (you know, the one where you’re eating a stack of pancakes as big as your head while riding a unicorn down the beach with Channing Tatum…I don’t know what you dream about, you weirdo), the destroyer of your important REM time.

Picture the scene: it’s the middle of the night. There’s someone else in your bed with you for whatever reason…cough, I’m not going to judge, it’s fine. No, no I’m sure you were just sleeping and it’s just a friend, you’re right! Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me ;)

…where am I? Oh yes:

Middle of the night, you wake up feeling a bit chilly, you must’ve pushed the duvet off earlier on. Don’t worry, just grab for it…where is it? Where’s the duvet gone? You fully wake up in a state of panic, the lovely dream long forgotten.

There it is. Your partner in slumber has it and they’ve completely enveloped themselves in it so that human and bedding have become one and subsequently leaving none for you. Great.

Now you have two choices: either be cold until they roll over and inadvertently give you a corner, or you can WAKE THEM THE HELL UP and get some quilt back. Personally, I’ve always been more of a suffer in silence kind of girl.

Safe to say, these people are some of the most annoying you could possibly share your sleeping hours with.

I myself know a duvet hog. He is one of the most territorial keepers of the duvet I have ever met, dude’s definitely guilty of this most disruptive of crimes. It doesn’t help that he’s also very strong so there’s no way I could try and yank a corner of that sweet, comforting duvet back.

In the morning, when he asks if I slept well, I smile and say ‘of course’ despite my freezing tootsies. I return the question and the answer is always a smile and a nod.

I don’t mind though, I enjoy his company.

Before we drift off, we tend to lapse into a comfortable silence of two people who don’t need to say anything in order to be close. It’s refreshing and relaxing.

I imagine people can harbour a certain degree of resentment towards their personal duvet hogs but I quite like mine. I like the late nights spent talking and laughing and then drifting off to sleep together. I like waking up in the morning and knowing that there’s another round of happy conversation waiting once we’re both awake.

And I suppose I don’t mind waking up in the night and feeling a bit cold if it means I can have all these other things.

My best friend is a duvet hog, but I wouldn’t change him for the world.

Now playing: The Blackout – We Live On