It’s a new life
And I’m feeling good…
Did you miss me.
Five years after starting MBR I’m back.
Not entirely sure why. Except to say I have a girl crush and she writes the most delicious blog I have ever had the pleasure of reading.
I have devoured her greedily. Read every word and marvelled at every glorious photograph.
She has single handedly shifted my writer’s block and well, the rest they say is history.
It’s amazing what you can knock up in an afternoon.
The blog that is. Not me.
I know that’s what you were thinking.
Like a slightly ageing, reformed girlband of one, I’m looking at this as a last hurrah of my digital age before I finally settle down to being a real grown up, you know, one who doesn’t waffle away into the internet and one who knows which bin goes out each week.
I do so, without hope or expectation that anyone shall actually read my ramblings, as that for me is part of the charm of the interweb.
Like standing in a forest and shouting into the wilderness.
And anyway, I’ve only paid up to squat here for the month… Slowly slowly catchy monkey and all that. I’m either being uncharacteristically cautious or perhaps just cheap.
Makes a change.
If any of you who kindly read my last site are still around, hello.
This time around MBR shall be very different.
A journal. A diary of sorts. A mind space. A place for me to prattle when a tweet won’t quite suffice.
Don’t expect reviews, or fancy smanchy recipes, this time it’s just me. Raw, uncut, unedited Jennie.
The thoughts of a now 30 something, no longer a 20 something.
Still a city worker, but now a country cottage dweller. Still married, still punching above my weight. Still occasionally fabulous, still painfully shy. Still loves London. Now have a bunny.
Refusing the country twin set and pearls, now punk.
Still no tattoo.
Still a Tory.
Still a shopaholic.
Still a workaholic.
Still blonde. Always blonde. Somethings will never change.
It is quite incredible though how by the changing of a single digit how much One can change. I certainly have since turning 30.
Now sporty! (I know, right, who saw that coming!)
No longer a fatty. (or that!)
Triathlete. (yep, I know, would have been less surprising for me to fly to the moon)
Travel a lot, but never enough. (sadly not to the moon…yet).
Fallen in love with flowers. All the flowers.
Crushing on Monty Don.
Crushing on Classic FM.
But still don’t like salad.
Swims. A lot.
Stilettos and silk pants.
Still a boozehound, clearly.
Anyway, so here goes. Welcome back to My Blonde Reality, 2.0.
Hold on to your hats.
P.S: Song of this day here