Back From Blighty

I was back in Bath visiting my dad and step-fam for ten days so my blog has been neglected slightly, apologies all round. I'm moving to Italy imminently so between attempting to learn Italian, find accommodation, say goodbye to everyone, and stop myself from falling apart mentally, I've felt pretty stressed and it was nice to get away from all that for a while. Here are some photos I took over the past week or so:

This was my attempt at being *artistic* on a sunny evening, fuelled by gin and tonic.

Fashioned a hat for this babe out of a popped balloon

This baby snail crawled onto my hand of his own accord. I may or may not have dropped him but he survived.

The most exciting part of my day was when one side of a bourbon biscuit had been put on back to front and left this imprint in the chocolate. My mum referred to it as "a freak accident", which is kind of cute.

Life is just doddering on at the moment really but I know it's just a matter of time (exactly a month from tomorrow) until I leave for Italy so there's a quiet hum of anxiety behind everything I do at the moment. I'm trying to resolve it by being proactive and e-mailing lots of people about career stuff so hopefully I'm rich enough to buy thousands of freak bourbons in the future.

Self-conscious

It was that sort of tarmac-melting, inevitably sun-burning hot this past week and I celebrated my weekend off by eating lots and doing absolutely nothing productive. I had a picnic with a friend on Saturday afternoon (we talked about bullying and how friendships change over time) and went for a run in the evening, feeling self-conscious about my legging-clad thighs and greasy hair every time I passed anyone.

I sort of dislike going out and about in my hometown because it's so small and the kind of place where you'll inevitably run into thirty people you kinda-sorta know, the kind of people who would tell everyone "I saw Phoebe yesterday and she looked like she'd been dipped in chip fat!". I know that as a psychology student I should probably be aware of the fact that I judge myself far more harshly than anyone else does, that in reality no one cares about my ratty ponytail or tubby arse, but in my mind it's a really big deal every time I end up in that "Should I say hi? Should I keep looking at the pavement?" situation that seems so ridiculous as a twenty year old. I guess being home brings back all the feelings that I had over the years here at ten and thirteen and eighteen.

When I woke up on Sunday morning I felt oddly free and over it, like I could acknowledge that those issues just don't matter in the grand scheme of things. I pulled on shorts and my awful bra (the comfy saggy one that creates the illusion that I have the body of an octogenarian) and a vest and walked to a park by the river where I lay on a bench and listened to YouTube videos by Rosianna Halse Rojas (who is just achingly clever and insightful and my dreamworld best friend). I also took these photos, one of which required me to stand on a bench and another which left me sitting on a big flat rock right in the river. I let go of the feelings of "What if someone sees me and everyone thinks I'm *uncool* forever?" for an hour and it was the most peaceful I've felt in months.

The riverbed

I'm aware that the composition is craptacular but the colours are just so pretty.

I love this tree's ghoul face.

The moral of the story is to always wear awful bras and be unselfconscious.