My blog should probably start to take a more optimistic turn. I am ever so sorry for being so boringly sorry for myself over the past few posts and this will stop from now.

I have "faced my demons" and found out what I wanted to and now a weight has been lifted from my entire body.

Tomorrow night I have a DATE. Which is really fucking strange. I haven't had an actual date in well over a year and I am stumped as to what to wear- so please, readers, GUIDE ME. We're going for a meal and cocktails then to the cinema to give you a sort of stimulus. Thing is, it's a guy I work with, so imagine if it turns out awful (which I don't think it will) and then I have to see him at work every day making him tea and feeling really awkward.

My obsession of The Beatles has increased tenfold and I am regularly falling asleep whilst listening to Magical Mystery Tour and having REALLY WEIRD DREAMS.

Anyway more fun loving posts to come I promise

XX

In which things get texty.

My life has started to get a bit more exciting and dramatic, which can only be a good thing. It has accelerated from cats and trains and now more interesting things are coming out to play and it's very fun.

Unfortunately not all is good in the hood, my ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend (which he denies, but, mate, she's pretty much your girlfriend isn't she). So that was a pretty painful kick in the still tender teeth. However, I have found much solace in being very bitter about the whole proceedings and making myself look like a massive jealous twat in front of him. It's what I do best.

I can't really remember a time, since the age of 15, when I texted quite as much as I am at the moment. Good job I have free texts. Text madness.

Anyway, for hallowe'en I went to a party in a town close to where my ex used to live, it was pretty fun after everybody got a good amount of alcohol poured down their necks. There were about 7 drunk casualties, lots of young "drunk sluts" who I didn't know and lots of faux spider webs. All round a good time, bacon sandwiches and cups of tea at 4am were most welcomed by myself .

I looked pretty shit as a "vampire". Making an effort for things like this is such an effort so I didn't really bother. I look pretty rank in all the photos that were taken that night, but sort-of hilariously apt so in the name of hallowe'en so here's one to boost you guys' self-esteem.

My dress was from Tesco, ah.

I'm sorry I can't be more juicy about my news, dear readers, maybe soon. Who knows.

I'm still on the look out for my millionaire, accented husband who'll buy me a Mulberry bayswater and all the dark chocolate I can stuff in my big, jealous mouth. So if you know anyone, send 'em my way.

I love you all

XXXXXXXX

By the way, are there any Pixies fans who read my blog? (as in the band, not the small mythical creatures with pointy ears).

Probably very out of place on the blog network, but this is a fucking SICK dub song.

In the absence of a boyfriend in my life I have been mulling over what is really important in a man. My answer: an accent.

This is Paolo Nutini. My new favourite man. LOOK AT HIM. Shit. He's so hot. His accent is Scottish. I mean, I don't even know what he's saying but it's SO HOT. And he speaks out the side of his mouth which is well sexy.

I recently went to Shoreditch House which is this crazy London venue where lots of beautiful people were and it was MAD. I am easily amused. I could get used to this part time London life.

Back on the shelf.

Being single totally fucking blows.

A 'happy couple' according to google images.

Facebook continues to mock me with it's dating adverts and a little voice in my head keeps nagging me to MAKE AN EFFORT. But it really is such an effort to make an effort. Putting on actual face make-up, smiling at attractive people, FLIRTING. I can't really remember how to flirt. Do I show some thigh and giggle a lot? I tend to be so tired and haggard from travelling or rolling around on the floor in one of my classes that looking attractive is the last thing on my list. I sort of feel like the stereotype of become cat lady is drawing nearer and nearer. They now sleep on my bed with me.

And anyway facebook is such a dick, all I ever see in my news feed is pictures of my ex naked in some girls room or him at some really cool looking club or drunk in a hall strewn across bikini-clad chloe sevigny look-a-likes (the last was a lie).

Some good news though in the torrent of negativity - I sort of have a new (and better) job at the restaurant Giraffe in my town. Well, I say a job... I have a trial shift, but I'm gunna ace it. It's a cool restaurant though and the food is taaaaaaaaaasssty AND i could get a transfer for if I move to London next year so it all seems pretty handy. Pray for me.

Oh yeah also I failed my driving theory test. I swear only the socially/mentally inept don't pass this test of COMMON SENSE. Apparently I fall into the categories. It's £41 too which is shit because I just spent all my money in Zara on all their beautiful clothes.

Last update of my life is that I sat next to Phil from 'The Apprentice' on the district line, it literally has made my week HA.

Lots of love from the not-so-depressed-as-i-sound Leonora

XXXXXX

SHORT.

Dorothy Perkins is looking so good at the moment, I wanna get my hands on their velvet dress and asymmetric stud tunic.. thing. It's good.

Anyway so you all know, since my hair could grow as a wee child I have had it long. Long down to my bum. And then not quite as long but still pretty long. Yeah yesterday I GOT IT ALL CUT OFF. It's half way between my shoulders and neck and it's SO WEIRD. I'm not used to it. I don't even know if it suits me 'cos it's so weird.

I went out in Watford last night and wore this leopard print dress which made me look like someone from Girls Aloud. It was really weird there it was an absolutely MASSIVE Oceana, like huge. It had about 10 different rooms and some of them were like sex boudoirs with velvet sofas and curtains and sex music. I couldn't get used to so many men around me and I screamed 'cos some freak grabbed me and he was really frightened. I'm never going to any good at being single. Even though apparently I'm not. I don't know anymore.

Why do no websites now let you steal pictures of their clothes. Where do all you fashionistas get your pictures from?

I'll post a nice picture of me and my hair soon where one surfaces.

peas an loaf.

XXXXXXXXXX

ROSEMARY AND THYME IS THE STUPIDEST PROGRAMME. Gardeners come detective = shit.

fwomp

Today my boyfriend left for uni 115 miles away from where I am. It really fucking sucks.

I have also booked my driving theory test which is an absolute joke because I don't really want to be able to drive. Although I'm not quite sure why not.

On Wednesday I have my induction for my foundation course which is exciting and then I begin the next week. I also am enjoying the 9-5 lifestyle and saving LOADS AND LOADS OF MONEY. Which is sort of the only plus I can gauge now I am pretty much boyfriendless because I will not be spending £4892374089 every week getting trains to Hemel. This means that I will have more money to spend on myself, no doubt I'm going to indulge in a puffa gilet, which is the wrongest thing ever but so so warm it's worth the pain.

My only other news of worth is that tomorrow I am getting my hair cut in a drastic way in some pitiful attempt to re-vamp myself now I don't have someone to look disgusting around without worrying about it. I have to step up my game attractiveness-wise.

My sincerest apologies for being the worst, most boring blogger without ANY exciting things to tell/show you but maybe when I'm officially a (part-time) Londoner I'll be a bit more of interest.

Lub xxxxx

P.S Alice I want a blog ASAP with photos of your room and of you getting wasted at freshers at some sort of foam party downing shots with a man in one of those mankinis because that's what Uni's all about, right?