It's eight o'clock in the evening and I'm sitting here, three nights before I move out for my third year at university and what am I doing? I am panicking. (In a good way. Kind of.) These past few days I've been pouring over old photos because two of my young cousins hit milestones this past week: one started primary school, the other started secondary school. Now, I'm not being funny but when did I get so grown up ? I should be the one starting school surely?! But no, I am alas beginning my final year of my degree. Don't get my wrong, I am excited; I'm so looking forward to living with the girls I'm sharing a flat with, meeting new people, being confident-sassy-sexy (the killer trio), spending time with my nearest and dearest, and (hopefully) (seriously, so much hope) kicking ass at my degree. I'm a final year english student which generally means me running around aimlessly with a book in front of my face saying stuff about words and hoping I ma
Literature and Life