As I'm currently on holiday in Dubai, my Mum asked me to go through a file of my old paperwork... from cringey but cute passport photos, old passports showing I was much more of a jet-setter in my early years,  children frequent flyer booklets (LOL - expat kid for you), my medical records from school (if only I was as skinny as I was at 16!) to the dreaded school reports from Year 7 - Year 13, my  lovely Mum had kept it all.

At school, there were subjects which I liked and tried hard in, and ones that I liked a lot less and therefore, tried a lot less hard in. English, Drama and History were all favourites, whilst the more academic Sciences and Maths trailed behind, dismissed by my 15 year old self. Reading back on these reports with comments with teachers like, 'Zara is a little inconsistent', 'Zara just needs to retain the facts to be able to answer the questions', 'The summer holiday will be a key time for Zara to turn things around' - OUCH! I can't help be hard offended by these stinging comments, but on the other hand nod along to them - slightly embarrassed that my Mum kept the reports regardless that they were anything but shining.

So how would I be doing school report wise now, if there was one for the life of a 26 year old? I'd get below average marks for PE (all exercise has gone out the window for the last three months since starting my new job), food tech is on the up with batch cooking being my new thing to survive walking in the door too late to get creative in the kitchen, English is suffering slightly due to my neglect to this blog and drama get's full marks for my many hours committed to Netflix.

Let's just say I'm glad that school reports don't continue past school.

Hello Spring

We've had some sunny days already. Glorious blue skies, people spilling out of pubs onto the pavement, cold beverages in hand, laughing and rowdy, white legs on show. Spring days have a smell - the smell of heat bouncing off pavements, new blooms waving in the warm breeze. They have a sound - children laughing and chasing each other, the buzz of groups gossiping as you walk past restaurants that have dusted off their iron tables and chairs outside, flip flops slapping and car radios turned up.

With Sun, comes an increase of Instagram and Facebook posts. Hands holding ice lollies towards a blue sky, smiling selfies lying back on a picnic blanket, feet splish splashing in a paddling pool. Everyone is in unison for once - celebrating that winter is finally behind us and we have days and months of longer days and sunny weekends to look forward to.

This time of year always makes me feel optimistic and rejuvenated, excited to make plans and to see friends before it all goes away once again, too soon. I'm keen to organise and round up those people I haven't seen in too long, to bring them together to enjoy everything that these two beautiful seasons bring.

Growing up surrounded by sun every single day of the year, none of the above mattered. I longed to wear boots and coats and thought the English summers a time to pull out my 'winter wardrobe'. Though I wouldn't change my childhood, I am so grateful that as an adult I now know how to appreciate a change in season.

Appreciating something you took for granted before - what else do we have that we don't think twice about? Good friends, food in the fridge, a safe existence. Things we always say we appreciate - but how can we really, when we know no different? So when it's a sunny day and I'm struggling to take a picture of my Fab ice lolly in front of that perfectly blue sky and green grass before it trickles down my arm in a sticky mess - I vow to think about the other things I'm so totally grateful for. 

The A-Z of Commuting: Part 2

Part two of the A-Z of commuting, featuring the more difficult and lesser-used letters. You might notice some letters are missing from the alphabet in this post, namely L, N, O and Y. These letters are stupid and gave me no inspo - as this is my blog and my rules  I get to give up and post sans stupid letters. Enjoy!

M is for McFlurry. When it's been a long day, you've missed dinner, your train is delayed and all you want is the comfort of some sugar - why not take a ride home with your mate McFlurry. Fingers crossed the Creme Egg version comes out soon!

P is for phones. Our little sidekicks that come with us everywhere and I honestly don't know how we would survive without. Google maps, Spotify, podcasts - complete essentials. Oh, and the perfect way to avoid eye contact with everyone and anyone.

Q is for Quaker Oats, the porridge which fills my belly for the epic journey I embark on everyday.

R is for replacement bus service. The words no commuter ever wants to read and shudders when they do. I'll always pick walking over getting on a bus, purely because they completely baffle me (buses are not a thing in Dubai) and are horrendously unreliable.

S is for slow walkers. If you are a slow walker and are reading this, I want you to have a long hard look at yourself and pick up that pace. You're in my way and I simply don't have time for your spaced-out stroll. Travelling from A to B has become a game of Super Mario for me and every time I get past another slow walker I get 1-up.

T is for time. Something you become obsessed with when you have a train to catch! I've got the timing so perfect that when I waltz down the stairs to the platform at Weybridge, the train is just pulling up. That's if, of course, I leave exactly at 8.07am. Which, of course, I never do. Perfect timing = running/limping along the road, dodging grannies and children on the pavement and leaping onto the carriage to shatter the silence with my heavy breathing whilst tentatively dabbing at my sweat-tache.

U is for underground, of course! Pretty dreamy in terms of speed, just got to be fine with enduring dusty stale air, cramped conditions or being left in a carriage with no one but that weirdo, frequent strikes and the inevitable amount of dead skin and who knows what else that has been weaved into the ancient fabric of the seats. Yum!

V is for volume. Hair volume that is. Everyday I leave the house happy with a bouncy hair-do and arrive at the office to get in the lift and see a flat, sad affair staring back at me. I don't really know what happens between home and the office, but maybe my hair is representing how I feel by the time my journey is finally over - limp and a little frazzled.

W is for weather. I used to be protected from the rain/hail/wind/snow in my comfy company car on my easy peasy 15 min poodle to work. No longer, I and my beloved backpack is now prepared for all eventualities of weather and fashion has gone well and truly out the window - yay to being an adult!

X is for the x-rated tunes I hear coming from the dodgy looking "youth" on the tube and his crappy headphones, providing the whole carriage with the delights of Fetty Wap and the rest of the crew (of who I know no names of because I am middle aged).

Z is for zzzzzz, i.e. me snoozing most mornings on the train in. I now have no shame and will happily catch some extra z's in front of carriage full of strangers, knowing full well my mouth has been wide open for the duration of the journey.

BRB, got a train or 10 to catch!  

What is Happiness?

Happiness is...

• When your favourite song comes on in 'da club'
• Finding a perfect present that you know they're going to love
• New sheets on a Sunday night
• Making eye contact at the exact right time for that inside joke
• When what you're cooking comes out looking exactly like the picture
• Cry laughing with your best friend
• An hour long catch-up on the phone
• Beating that red light
• Running a 5K before sunrise
• The last 10 seconds before you fall asleep for an afternoon nap
• Finding the top you thought was out of stock everywhere in your size
• Cuddles with your favourite (cat/person)
• When a prayer gets answered
• A good hair day 

"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." 

The A-Z to Commuting - Part 1

So it's been a month since I've started commuting to London everyday for work. So far, it's not been as bad as everyone makes out. Yes, it's hot and claustrophobic and a little like Groundhog Day everyday, but so far I favour a long journey on a train & tube over a long journey in the car. I can nap, I can people watch, I can read, I can listen to music (just a bit less singing than in the car, fortunately for the people around me).

What better way to celebrate four weeks of surviving my commute than doing an A-Z of commuting... enjoy!

A is for alarm. That pesky little guy you don't want to snooze too many times or it's bound to be a case of running, sweating excessively and waving bye bye to the 8.22 train.

B is for backpack. As a person who is very passionate about handbags, this was really quite difficult to give into but after 3 weeks of lopsided laptop holding, I converted and I'm secretly quite delighted. My hands are free, my back comfortable and I can use it as a human shield when needed. Hurrah!

C is for coughing. Chesty, tickly, choking on a too quickly sipped latte, there is a constant, delightful chorus of coughing on the train.

D is for delays. Delayed is something that I'm getting used to flashing up on the big screens at Waterloo station most evenings. At first this was frustrating and I felt like "giving someone a piece of my mind". Now it's common practice and I'm numb to it, almost surprised when the dreaded D word doesn't appear and my train pulls into the platform smoothly and on time. £3,300 on a season ticket and your trains never on time? Seems fair to me.

E is for eye contact. Constant voice in my head - *Must not make eye contact. Must not make eye contact.*

F is for first class. A place I have frequented many times in the sky (yay Emirates baby!) but is forbidden fruit when it comes to SouthWest Trains. An entire carriage wasted, in my eyes, whilst the others are jam packed, nose to nose in the remaining carriages. First class is a dreamy land where you get arm rests and free cups of tea. There are days, of course, when I feel the need to sneak in - they'll never check, surely? Don't I look like I belong in first class?! But the goody-two-shoes in me comes out and I resign to my regular position in between the toilets and that mans armpit I've become so familiar with in the last half an hour.

G is for Goodge Street. This is the final destination of my commute in the morning. Though not complete until I'm involved in the final squish of bodies which are transported in a lift far older than I care to think about to street level and I am finally released to the 'fresh air' of central London.

H is for headphones. After having my neck nearly pulled from its socket when my trusty iPhone headphone wire got caught in a ladies handbag as she got off the tube (pulling me with her), I decided to go wire free. These Bose headphones are pricey but I convinced myself that they were a must have and so far I haven't been disappointed. The sound quality is incredible, they cancel out the noise of my fellow commuters just enough and they keep my ears warm!

I is for I. Me, me, me!!! I am selfish on my commute; get out of my way, that's my seat, don't think you can share that arm rest with me, don't you dare even move slightly to the left of the escalator I am huffing and puffing up. Grrrr.

J is for joy. The joy that I get when I throw my breakfast banana into the rubbish bin of Platform 2 Weybridge station and think to myself,  "I really am getting my monies worth." (Think you might be starting to learn that with me, it's the little things in life).

K is for kissing. Something that for some absolutely bizarre reason, I have unfortunately had to witness far too much on the train and tube. Why. WHY? A soppy goodbye kiss on the platform, a peck on the forehead of tall boyfriend to short girlfriend, a passionate exchange on the seats opposite mine whilst our knees almost touch. Please bare with me whilst I quietly throw up my pre-train banana.

Just call me Marie

Most people who meet me would describe me as organised (correct) and therefore assume that I am tidy (incorrect).

My room mostly displays the stunning 'floordrobe' that can mostly be found in the humble abodes of teenagers. Cups of tea enter my room, shaking in their porcelin boots that they will never re-emerge.   Hair shed in front of my dresser provides an extra layer to the cream carpet and my bed is only made when I'm in it.

However, during the Christmas holidays I purchased the much hyped book 'The Life Changing Magic of Tidying' by Marie Kondo. This book has been reviewed by many bloggers and YouTubers, some claiming it is a life changer and others that it is a pile of rubbish (ironically). I decided to take it with a pinch of salt, knowing that my life is not really comparable to that of an OCD Japanese lady who lives in a box like flat and has committed her life to thanking her material objects that 'work so hard' for her and to putting away the entire contents of her handbag every evening.

However, reading the book did inspire me to have a mass clear out over Christmas resulting in many bags of clothes, books and other junk going to the charity shop. Love a good charity shop drop off. I had been feeling quite overwhelmed at the amount of clothes I had and the fact that if all clean, there was no way they were all fitting in my wardrobe. Never a good thing when your wash basket becomes storage! Anyway, after a big clear out where I decided whether each item 'sparked joy' or was something I was keen to wear again, I reorganised the storage of my clothes.

Rolling - who knew this was a thing. Rolling your clothes and then standing them all up so you can have a birds eye view means no more messing up of piles when looking for that one top you have to wear. Marie also recommends folding your knickers and my socks, which I took on board much to the amusement of my very sceptical Mum. Mum, if you're reading - I've kept it up! Marie claims that rolling your socks into balls causes them 'unnecessary stress' and wears out the elastic, limited their little sock lives. I quite frankly think this is a load of "ballocks" (hehe) but there is something quite satisfying with pairing and folding your sock buddies and standing them all to attention in the drawer.

You've probably read the majority of this post thinking, wow - this girl needs to get out a bit more. And you're probably right. But I'd say that so far, it has been ever so slightly life changing! I've adopted the method of tidying for 20 minutes a day (I actually set up a timer)  and it just means that things don't get to the extreme disastrous state that they used to. I still need to do the weekend Mary Poppins act of an extreme tidy/clean but during the week I am getting by with 20 minutes a day to avoid max floordrobe and an over flowing wash basket.

So, thanks Marie for your wise words. I won't be thanking my shoes for their hardwork any time soon but hopefully I am on the road to being just that little bit less of a teenager. 

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

We all worry, but I believe I worry enough for a small lesser economically developed country. I'm working myself up from an LEDC to an MEDC in fact. However, as I grow older (and older and older) I am starting to realise that worrying really isn't something I should be spending so much of my time doing.

I worry if I'm going to be too early, or too late. I worry that I've left my straighteners on; even though I have never done this before and even if I did... they can turn themselves off. I worry that people around me are having a good time and when they appear to be enjoying themselves I worry that I'm not having as much fun as they are and that there must be something wrong with me. I worry, about worrying.

If you're reading this - hello - I have finally let this little blog known to other human beings. I worried for quite a while about the way the blog looked, how people would react to it, would they think I was a weirdo for writing about nothing and expecting people to potentially maybe take something from it?

When I posted the link last week on my Facebook page (to a bunch of people that I haven't spoken IRL to for years/colleagues/best friends/and those I just keep for stalking purposes - you know you all have them) it was quite a relief to finally hit 'send' on the post and see that I wasn't drowned in negativity. My 'friends' were lovely, encouraging and intrigued - which was very gratefully received from my end. I'm sure there were those who rolled their eyes, oh here we go another "blogger" in the making let me click on the link so I can have a laugh at some bad grammar and cringey 'OOTD' posts - but that's okay with me.

So, here's a post for me to look back on when I find myself drowning in a pool of classic worry wart. Start using your brain for something a little more productive and remember that there are others out there just like you. Getting things in perspective is so important and already this week I am learning about the beauty of just going for it and throwing yourself into something - that's usually when magic things happen. Contemplating, ooming and ahhing, writing a pros and cons list - it just extends the process of making a decision, usually for no good reason at all. So my advice to myself is to take the plunge - and if you really have to, worry it about it later.

New Year, New Me?

It's the time of year where everyone tries to re-invent themselves, to curb those bad habits they will inevitably always have and to think of some unachievable new years resolutions. The gyms are packed and the sales of tupperware soar as 25 year olds around the world kid themselves into thinking they will save money and make their lunch for work everyday.

As cynical as my introductory paragraph to this post is, it is refreshing to have a new year and fresh start to focus on. I am starting a new job next week, which goes perfectly with the 'turning over a new leaf' vibe. I am hoping to be bright eyed and bushy tailed, find that it has taken 26 years to become a morning  person but that I've finally changed and to embrace exercise and find myself 'addicted'. However, I'm sure come February I will be running for the train, hair half brushed and make-up still to be done whilst I am pushed up against a stranger on the tube, thoughts of a healthy breakfast of instagrammable overnight oats out the window and that pre-work run I've been planning to go on for the last four weeks now just a cloud of guilt that pops up when I hit snooze.

It is so good to make positive changes in your life. If something isn't right or is making you unhappy it is absolutely the right thing to do to take note and endeavour to change it. However maybe one thing at a time should be the motto. In 2016 I made some big changes, but over the course of 12 months. None of them were too easy, I procrastinated, changed my mind about what I wanted several times and didn't exactly take the easy route to getting where I wanted to be but at the end of the year I can say I am proud of my achievements. I jumped out of a plane - something I never thought I would do (and something I will never do again!). I started this blog - just didn't get around to actually publishing it...! I ran for 10 miles in one go, which considering I could barely run for 1 minute a year previously (no exaggeration here, I was kidding myself that running from one lamppost to another was progress) and signed up for my first ever half marathon. I got a new job, which I am so excited to start and feel super positive about. I made some really lovely new friends who I know will not just be around for 2016 but for many years to come.

As quickly as 2016 seemed to go, 12 months is a long time and though there were plenty of days 'wasted' with my face 2 centimetres from my phone watching YouTube in bed or moaning to myself that I would never drink again, I did achieve rather a lot! So. Bring on 2017, let's make it a good one!

6 things I would tell my 16 year old self

Lately memories of the first days of Facebook (i.e. me at the age of 16) have been pushed back into my life on a daily basis thanks to the social media sites new "memories" function. Pictures of awful outfit decisions, embarrassing status' and conversations with people I haven't spoken  to in nearly 10 years are thrust upon me every morning as I roll over to check my phone. So what would I say, if I could, to my 16 year old self?

1.) Stop with the pouting. It isn't helping your selfie game. You don't know what a selfie is? Oh yes wait you won't know until around 2011. Well, when you point the camera towards yourself - try not to do a duck face - you look a lot better without it.

2.) Spend less time on MSN. In four years time you won't use it and in six years time it will be removed completely from the internet. Don't aspire to be like the other girls in your year and put all of their best friends names/favourite song lyrics/ a boys name they've been 'seeing' for two minutes into your username. The only thing you can thank MSN for is your freakishly quick typing - other than that the embarrassment you put yourself through of logging in and out so that the boy you fancy will see you, it's not worth it. Just so you know, he's seen you - he just doesn't want to talk to you. Do your homework.

3.) Appreciate being 16 and stop trying to grow up so fast!  Yes I know you want to drive and I know you want freedom but guess what... that all comes with being an adult and that is absolutely no fun. Enjoy being a kid for as long as you can and stop trying to convince everyone you're anything but.

4.) Have some originality! Being different doesn't have to be a bad thing. Berksha is gross, not every bra you buy has to have that much padding and that top is NOT a dress.

5.) One day, you'll have unlimited texts and something magical called Whatsapp. No more using your lunch money on phone credit to waste it texting utter rubbish to a boy you won't want to even look at in 2 weeks time.

6.) No, your parents aren't letting you have a house party for your 16th birthday because surprisingly they don't condone 100 15/16 year olds underage drinking, smoking and making out under their roof. Get over it! You'll do enough of all of the above later on in life and guess what, in four years time you'll be the one in the corner of the club refusing to check your coat in, tapping a finger on your watch and waiting to pounce on the first person that stifles a yawn, just so you can persuade them to get the hell out of there and instead demolish a box of chips smothered in garlic sauce in the comfort of your own bed.

Trend Whore

My name is Zara and I am a self confessed trend whore. If something is talked about, tweeted or instagrammed enough I will be there jumping on the bandwagon and purchasing that latest fad. I thought it might be a good idea to write a post on my four latest faddy purchases and my honest opinions on them.

1. FitBit Charge £79.99 from Argos

This was one of those things that I told myself would be life changing. The normal process goes like this - I find out about the item and I listen to the shpiel about how it will change my life. I then consider my life with it and without it and convince myself I'm really losing out, make the purchase and then reality sets in. I figured that if I was to get a FitBit (a watch which tracks how many steps you do in a day, plus the distance, calories burned and the amount of stairs you've gone up) that I would suddenly become this crazy athletic being who walks/runs everywhere. I'd also be competing with many friends online who'd be racking up the steps and making my competitive side come out - thus causing me to become even more fit in the process.

The reality was I bought the FitBit and religiously wore it for a few weeks... but after that like most things it lost it's charm. The major issue for me is it is ugly. It's a rather large masculine looking rubber band which doesn't go so well with the majority of my wardrobe. There is the option to double watch and wear it on my right hand but somehow I think that's even less cool.

The second issue is that it's quite depressing. Working in an office means that you do spend the majority of your time on your bum at your desk and if you're walking around the office enough to reach your 10,000 step target you're not likely to be getting any actual work done. When I would get home with a measly 4,000 steps on the clock it pissed me off more than motivated me - how was I supposed to go for an evening walk/jog and do more steps in 45 minutes than I had all day!?

The third problem was I didn't actually have any other friends that had a FitBit to compete with, plus there is the small issue that I am the least competitive person you will ever meet. The battery life is also appalling which is a problem when you think you're doing a good job of walking everywhere one day only to check and be greeted by the annoying flashing battery sign and no track of how many thousands of steps you've done.

I don't regret buying the FitBit but I do think the battery life is a big issue. After writing this post I think I will try to get into more of a routine of charging it on a nightly basis to avoid it dying on me at midday and make more of an effort to wear it - it hurts to think it set me back £79.99 (or £80 stop kidding yourself Zara) and it's gathering dust.

2. NutriBullet £69.99 from Argos

The NutriBullet was another one of those - this will change my life - purchases (I think you might start to see a theme here). Similarly to the FitBit this was bought on a lonely Sunday afternoon when the only accessible and open shop nearby was Argos... hey, when a girls got to shop she's got to shop! This was also something that I put off for a while as I had a juicer already and didn't think I could warrant having another appliance.

Fast forward about 6 months later, I am so glad I bought the NutriBullet. The juicer hasn't been used once since I took the plunge - mainly because of how easy the NutriBullet is to use and clean in comparison to the juicer. I of course do go through weeks where I don't use it once and then other weeks where I can't get enough but I would say I have consistently enjoyed using it since I got it. My favourite and most frequent combo is spinach (love how green it goes), banana, frozen mango and coconut water. The plastic cup that you blend in acts as the cup to carry it to work in and means that you only have to wash up one thing  - what a dream!  Have I lost a ton of weight or seen a transformation in my skin for drinking more fruit and veg? No - but it is easy to use and has made me eat more fruit and veg which can only be a good thing.

3. Spiralizer £25 from Amazon

2 years ago, no one would know what the hell you were talking about if you told them you ate courgetti or zoodles for dinner. Now, it's the norm! When all my favourite food bloggers and YouTubers started going on about spiralizing courgettes as an alternative to carby spaghetti I tried to refrain from buying yet another kitchen gadget. I held off for about 6 months, but after many a soggy trial with my potato peeler, I realised there really wasn't anything I could do. If I wanted to join the no carb club I'd have to invest in a spiralizer. At the time the one that I bought was the most recommended so I didn't think too much about the somewhat hefty price tag. It does the job that it's supposed to but my goodness this thing is cumbersome. Awkward to clean, too large to store in a cupboard and after a couple of injuries I can confirm it is sharp and unforgiving! Since making this purchase some other options have come on to the market which are both neater and cheaper... if I could go back in time and swap I would. Also, shockingly, I don't want to eat curly courgettes every evening. I also will never be able to completely replace spaghetti because who could live without spaghetti!? So overall - complete fad and I fell for it.

4. Lumie Light - £59.99

And now to the latest addition in my fad buying - the Lumie Light! I can't write much of a review on this as it has only just been unboxed and plugged in but basically I'm hoping it will be the answer to my dreams. I can never get up in the morning and when I do get up early and get some things done before work, I feel so much better for it. Instead at the moment I am falling into the trap of snooze, snooze, snooze, SHIT.

The Lumie Light is designed to light up your room gradually half an hour before you need to wake up so that your body stops making melatonin and starts making the energising hormone you need to get up and seize the day. Why don't you just leave your blinds open I hear you ask? Well, because that wouldn't be as fun as spending £59.99 on a substandard and quite frankly ugly bedside light that you can later write a disappointed blog post on, would it?

The Weekend

Lately, I have been living a sort of TGIF life. Luckily enough, life is going pretty quickly at the moment so it seems like each weekend is coming round quicker than the next. Last weekend, I ventured into London from the far away land that is Surrey to see some friends.

On Saturday, I met two lovely ladies who I know from work - Josie and Joanna for lunch at Burger & Lobster - a place that has definitely been sufficiently blogged about in it's time.

Joanna and I went for the lobster roll and Josie went for the lobster. I feel like choosing a burger here would be a bit of an idiot move as every option on the menu is £20. Actually, when I say every option on the menu I can't actually say that as there isn't a menu - something that does get a little annoying as the waitress rattles off the dessert options with a heavy accent.

All options come with chips and a salad, plus a garlic sauce which eventually ended up being poured on my chips - apologies to anyone that I spoke to post meal.

The food was good but I wouldn't rush back. We didn't have to wait at all for a table but if we'd had to (which I think is quite often the case) it wouldn't have been worth the wait. The lobster roll was tasty, the food came quickly and there was a good atmosphere but it wasn't something I'd crave and want again soon. It seemed that the majority of people there (including myself) were more interested in getting the best Instagram possible of either a birds eye view of their food or a group shot of themselves and their friends wearing the obligatory plastic bibs you're given when you order.

Now onto the good bit - the company! Meet Joanna (Jo) and Josie...

Joanna

Likes:
- Country Walks
- History (documentaries, museums, period dramas, books)
- Fist pumps and high fives
- Being a perfectionist
- Cooking and hosting
- Her dog, Oscar
- Embarrassing me
- Using the word ridiculous when she's angry - "This is ridiculous!"

Dislikes:
- Abbreviated words like "courgetti"
- Most songs in the Top 40
- Wearing heels
- Getting up before 9am

Josie

Likes:
- Shopping
- Mulberry handbags
- Anything furry
- Rude boi cars
- Her friends
- Her hamster, Betty
- Shit Films (hello fast and furious!)
- Talking to strangers on the last train home

Dislikes:
- Monday mornings
- Being given directions
- Rose scented things
- When people call  her Jozie

These beautiful girls made my weekend - it's so important to make plans with friends. We all get busy and the weekends go by quicker and quicker each month, but put that date in the diary and stick to it. There's nothing quite like cry laughing with a friend or filling her in on the latest "scandalous" story. Don't take your friends for granted, show them the love and book in something fun to do soon!

Skiing 2016

At the ripe old age of 25, I decided to finally give in and commit to a ski trip with my best pals. There had been numerous years previous to this one where I had considered going but always had a last minute excuse - not enough money, not enough muscles, not enough money or muscles.  After a 2015 News Years Resolution of "Say yes to things" I couldn't say no and found myself committing to my first 15 hour car  journey, my first chalet, my first "lets exercise for six days straight", my first time on a mountain, on a ski lift, in ski's, being filmed hurtling down a blue run with absolutely no control... you can see where this is going.

As soon as I put my out of office on the fear of what was to come set in. This was only aided by the prospect of packing an entire weeks clothes (ski clothes included - those things are bulky) into one bag. When my three amigos (i.e. car buddies for the next night and day) came to collect me they were less than impressed with my two bag approach - one for ski and one for apres, I innocently remarked.  Amazingly we all made it to France in one piece, despite a warning light that came on in Calais and didn't leave us for the duration, a tantrum in a service station and french toilets with no toilet seats.

The mountains were absolutely breathtaking and it quite quickly became clear why this skiing thing was, well, a thing. Yes it was absolutely terrifying and much to the amusement of my fellow skiiers I squatted my way down the majority of the mountains, but there is nothing nicer than the sun shining on your face and feeling like you're on top of the world with your best friends.

So the question everyone has asked, would I do it again? Yes. But would I do it the same way - absolutely not. My inner diva completely came out on the trip. I was in utter shock that the fact we opted for a hot tub over ski-in-ski-out accommodation meant that we had to lug our skis and poles for what seemed like miles until we got to a ski lift. I would have gladly paid good money for the service of someone carrying my gear (or even my entire body) to the point where my skis could be snapped on and I was ready to go. There was nothing glamorous about working up a sweat through my thermals, feeling like bambi on ice and carrying my skis like a baby because I was never going to master the throwing them over my shoulder approach. I also understand that no one likes to be a beginner but when it comes to skiing it really isn't fun. The three other newbies and I spent the first day snow ploughing down what can only be described as a slight slope and then panting our way to the aladdins carpet to stand like toothpaste tubes on a conveyor belt up said slope and repeat the process over again.

My advise to any new skiiers out there - get lessons. I don't know what any of us would have done without them apart from severely hurt ourselves! Second tip - don't be afraid to fall over. It will happen. You will face plant the mountain, eat some snow that was suspiciously salty and have to do the walk of shame sans skis down the rest of the run to your group of friends who are nervously looking on hoping they won't have a full blown tantrum to deal with. And finally  - if you feel faint and decide to embrace the foetal position adjacent to a busy ski lift, make sure your friends go-pro isn't still recording. It's say to safe I won't be going off piste any time soon but I hope it wasn't my last ski trip.

Netflix and Chill

I am an extremist. I am very rarely quite keen on something, I either love it or hate it. I either do it all the time or never think about it. My dad has called me a fickle child for as long as I can remember and he is always bemused at my 'obsessions' of which I quickly forget about when I get bored. This translates beautifully to Netflix. When I find a TV show to watch, however rubbish or brilliant it is, there is nothing to stop me from letting each episode seamlessly slip into the next. My mind becomes mush, my dreams become alive with characters of the show telling me they love me and my eyes forget to blink as I stare space cadet style at my glowing laptop screen. Two months later, the story line will be a faint memory and I'll be cheating on my previous show with another 'recommended for Zara'.

Sometimes I feel guilty about my Netflix binges and think I should be doing more with my Friday night - after all, I am 25 and not 75. Motivational quotes are at an all time high at the moment on social media. These quotes and proverbs have been about for centuries but us millennial's have only just taken note due to on trend fonts and filters. One of them that stands out to me is;"I'll sleep when I'm dead". In other words, life is for living and don't waste it. But you know what? Sometimes living is about giving yourself a Netflix coma, filling your friend in on the phone with every detail of your embarrassing day or taking endless selfies with your cat. You might not be travelling to the other side of the world, meeting a famous politician or doing a sky dive, but you're happy. Don't feel guilty about not filling every minute of your time doing something life changing. You might be changing some young script writers life by watching that shit show on Netflix. You are definitely brightening up your friends day by making her laugh at your expense. Your cat surely loves you more for all the Instagram likes he's getting.

Spend your time your way... it's Friday night and I'm going back to my 6th episode in a row.

Terrible 20s

When I was growing up, 25 seemed like the age where surely I would be in full-swing of adulthood. I would have a successful job where I tapped my keyboard all day, wearing high heels and power pencil skirts, ordering my PA to get me my favourite Starbucks. I'd own a small but stylish house which had been painstakingly decorated with expensive wallpaper and bits of art my husband and I had bought in different cities on different weekends - because all young married couples have the time and the money for constant city breaks. I'd be thinking about starting a family, excited to revamp my wardrobe with cute empire waisted dresses to show off my bump. We'd have a puppy for the training purposes of having a baby, who of course would magically be able to look after it's self all day when we're off doing our long hour high pressure jobs.

The truth is, when you're in your 20s, it is very unlikely that anything will be 'sorted'. I could not be further away from the above at this moment in time and though it's hard to convince myself, I know that's okay. They say that when you get into your 30s you start to be less bothered about what people think about you and the anxiety that follows you around in your 20s suddenly disappears. I long for the day when I don't 'overthink' what people think or have five outfits on the floor after deciding that I have "nothing to wear".

At 25, people around me are starting to get engaged, have babies and buy houses - and that's good for them. Everyone develops at a different pace. Make good plans, look forward to things but live in the moment. Say 'yes' to what you would want to say 'no' to... what's the worst that can happen? 

Let's try this again

My middle name should be 'inconsistent'. It isn't something that I'm proud of, but it is undeniable, I am constantly starting things and not finishing them. Whether it's the half knitted scarf that's been in the drawer for so long I've forgotten how to knit or the fact that one morning I get up for work at 6am and practically clean the whole house before I leave the house and the next morning I'm rolling out of bed at 10 to 9 in a sleepy panic, I do not tend to stick to much. This blog is a classic example as you'll see below my first post entered the world in 2013 and has been alone without other post-siblings for the last 3 years! So here I am again, ready to give it another go and to prove myself and everyone around me wrong! 

How it all began

In my final year of University, just at the right time, I discovered the blogging world. Hours of my time began to disappear as I discovered The Londoner, A Beautiful Mess, Buy Now Blog Later... and too many others to name which were added to my favourite list as time went by. I was amazed, addicted and inspired. Of course, the final year of Uni is the tough year, so having the time to start my own blog wasn't very realistic or sensible, so instead I just wasted spent hours of my valuable study time looking at other people's blogs.

Now I am officially 'free' and have some time to kill before I enter the big bad world and start my new job in August, so here goes... my first blog post. Really I'm already admitting defeat when attempting to be original in any way possible with this blog, as there are millions of bloggers out there who record what they ate/wore/did/ but nevertheless I am going to go ahead and start this and see where it goes more for my own amusement than anything and hope that maybe one or two people might read it once and a while! 

So, in true MySpace quiz style...

My name is Zara. 

I am; 

- an only child

- old inside

- a pessimist 

I like: 

- olives

- furry things that purr 

- handbags

I dislike: 

- sweating 

- cheap cleaning products

- being told off