Five things I am immediately over, in fact I was over them five minutes ago:

  • Coconut Oil: If one more person tells me I should totally be roasting my potatoes, kale, carrots, hair etc etc in coconut oil I will probably lose it at them. I want to make one thing clear. I HATE COCONUT. I hate it. I think it’s awful and yet every healthy recipe going has coconut oil in. What happened people?! I know it’s low in whatever but people in the med pretty much BATHE in olive oil and they’re fine!  It’s not like I’m cooking everything in lard
  • Doughnuts: Not sure if it’s just me because I don’t have a particularly sweet tooth, but does anyone really know the difference between a bro,cro,fro – nut and, more importantly, does anyone care!? I don’t want an ‘ice-cream-stuffed-brioche-style-baked-at-midnight-under-a-blue-moon-doughnut’ towering precariously on top of my milkshake thank you
  • ‘Clean eating’: I’m not being funny but would someone, anyone, like to actually define clean eating for me? I thought this was just a myth made up on instagram to make me feel like a whale for posting photos of my lasagne. No. No apparently it’s a real thing!? From what I can gather it means eating fruit and veg and cutting down on processed crap. Revolutionary. Right?
  • Deconstructed: I like my food constructed. The end
  • Chia Seeds: So these little things are cropping up in hipster venues everywhere. They are appearing mainly in porridge form. I use the term porridge very, very loosely. What it actually constitutes is something akin to what I imagine the texture of frogspawn to be. Horrendous. Plus they cost a bomb

A Conscious Uncoupling

“That’s fair”

With that, it was over. My first real “adult” job. Gone. Six months of roller coaster emotion, sleepless nights, inane pressure and some interesting moral debates was, simply, over. I’d know it was coming. I think we all had.

“It’s like you’ve switched off” they said and honestly…..I had. I’m no sales woman. I’m happy to sell a slice of cake for a good cause; ask me to sell you a dream and I’m your girl, but give me a spreadsheet and numbers to hit by the end of play and I’ll struggle. I was overwhelmed by fears of not reaching far off targets, ideal sales figures that were never really explained.
Bizarrely, for someone trained in performance I’ve always been pretty bad at hiding how I feel (something that makes my poor mother despair and my friends fear sitting next to me during particularly arduous pieces of theatre). Therefore, the above described “switching off” was written all over my face.

So, here I am now. Unemployed. With nothing but a pipe dream and the cup of coffee sat in front of me. If you’ve ever been unemployed as an “adult” (and I use that term very, very loosely) then you’ll understand the overwhelming fear of someone asking you the inevitable question:

“So. What next?”


Ground control to Major Tom. Panic stations are go.

After an impromptu week in the sun, a lot of late nights with the two poor housemates this blog is named for and a hard look at myself, ‘Next’ is looking a bit like this: I’m going to cook and eat, and I’m going to write about it. Hopefully you’re going to read it, relate to it and maybe even laugh a bit at a person desperately spinning sugar attempting to be a real adult.