Where I am

About my new flat mate 

So. Recently I’ve undertaken this interesting new adventure of living with this woman. She’s 24, tall, long hair, sometimes funny and always fucking forgets to switch the lights off even when she leaves the flat. She is me. Hello.

So after starting work last August I moved back in with my parents for a while and commuted to work. Then, some time in late January I became horribly aware that my energy and enthusiasm for life was at an all time low. I was lethargic, unmotivated and unhappy. There was a whole ream of things contributing to that depression and living home with my parents was one of them.
WHICH IS NUTS. Why? Because my family are the most a-mazing people you will ever meet. We are this unit of joy, love, support, happiness and alcohol. Moving home didn’t restrict me in any way; I continued to experience the same freedom I always enjoyed but in my mind, I felt trapped.

A million things were happening that led me to feel like my life was being lived for me. Moving back home had somehow gone from a temporary measure to a means of saving money for a housing deposit so I could move in with my boyfriend in eighteen months’ time in a swanky new flat in Birmingham. It was all planned out and I felt like I was supposed to be ready for it. Everyone was telling me what a great time it was to invest, how this makes such financial sense and blah de mortgage blah. Before I knew it, conversations were had, viewings were booked, flats were seen and I was internally crying.

So one cold, dreary January evening as I drove home from work, following a major decision to listen to my intuition, I made up my mind to tell everyone around me that I wasn’t ready to just jump into the future like that. And that I was moving out on my own. It seemed that all those events had lined up to propel me into taking control over my life again.

From that point on, all else slotted sweetly into place. I instantly felt like I was on a level plane: calmer, with no further despair, focused on finding a new place to live. This peace was generated when I made a decision that was aligned with what felt right. For a few weeks, I was caught up in the technicalities: I looked at flats in Lancaster, minutes away from my family (none of which worked out, again I think for a reason) and then again in Preston, closer to work. I eventually found a two bed on the marina, overlooking a river. Having lived in a buzzing city for a few years and loving it, Preston feels pretty hopeless in comparison. A year ago, when I found out I’d be back here I was honestly devastated. Even now, having accepted where I am in life, I know I’m never going to love this place. But a shift has happened. Now, when I go on Instagram and see doctors who are living their lives in places like London and Manchester I no longer look at myself and think what a failure I am. I am where I am and the hand I was dealt was the one that accurately reflected the headspace I was occupying at the time. So when I stepped out onto the balcony, the grey river dancing in the rain and the cold February wind whipping at my skin, I figured that a flat this nice makes this city a lot less shit.

Then I signed some papers.

And now I’ve done it. I’m broke, counting down til payday, always forgetting to switch the kitchen light off and I’m happier. Much, much happier. I got past the initial freakiness of the boiler doing its thing at 3am. I got past the noises in the flat only being the ones I made and started savouring the silence. I set up my own wifi router, I pay all my own bills and have become a regular adult in the world.

This progression is hardly miraculous- it’s just a step in the direction that finally felt right.

Love to all, G x

Where I am


It’s a cold fucking evening.

I swallow the last of my mum’s dinner and run upstairs to change out of my work clothes into some leggings, a long sleeved top and a jumper. I look in the mirror. I’m digging the comfy vibe so I throw on a scarf and a pair of trainers too. Recently I’ve taken to actually dressing nicely so it’s good to just chill out. Actually it’s good to get out of the house at all. And on a weeknight. I’ve done well so far.

I go back downstairs and down the rest of my tea before jumping into my car and driving to The Meeting House. I’ve driven and walked past this building a million times on the way to the train station but I’ve never even been inside. I walk up the flat stone steps and inside. I feel a little doubtful… in fact I’m only just about sure I’m in the right place. Inside, the building is washed by the harsh whiteness of tube lights. The carpet is green and flat, and there are doors in all directions. I look tentatively at a few people sitting around, not entirely sure where I’m going. Then I see it. ‘Zen meditation 7.30- 9.45 Room 3’. Room 3 it is then.

I walk up a spiralled flight of stairs and straight into room 3 when I realise I’m still wearing my trainers and everyone else has taken their shoes off. ‘You knob end, Gowri’, I think, before quickly retreating outside the room. I nervously peek inside. A large, golden Buddha sits at the end of the room on a table with a lit candle. A few people bow and pray to it. An old gentleman with a white beard and kind eyes comes up to me and says ‘You must be Gowri. Thanks for getting in touch’. There’s some fumbling and fidgeting and the man, Paul comes out of the room with a younger, beautiful mixed race looking woman with cropped hair, black glasses and a gorgeous smile. I am treading the water between tense and relaxed. She introduces herself as Nicola. I give them both my best polite smile as they gather together some cushions, a small bench and some more cushions and take me downstairs to a big open room, away from everyone else.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” asks Nicola. I cast my mind back to the Buddhist Centre in Moseley with its warm lighting, the giant gold buddha, the air humid with lemon and ginger tea and the array of navy cushions splayed across the wooden floor and the people of all backgrounds coming together yearning for peace. “I’ve done a six week meditation course back when I used to live in Birmingham”, I reply. I’m not sure if this makes me any more qualified or not.

She goes on to explain to me that here, they practise Zen buddhism which has a number of differences. “We don’t focus on the breath, we simply focus on sitting” she says, casting her eyes to the numerous adjuncts she has brought with her. I play around with them until I find a comfortable position on a chair. I’m taught how to hold my hands. I’m told when to bow with my hands in a prayer and I’m told that when we meditate we sit facing the wall with our eyes slightly open and looking down. At this point, my fight or flight response gets ready to kick in and scream at me to leave but my behind stays firmly on the chair. Must keep an open mind.

“Is everyone here buddhist?” I ask.
“Most people”, she replies “but not everyone”.
“And the meditations… are they guided?”
“No, no… we just sit in silence”, she smiles.
Run, Gowri.

I don’t run. Despite my fear and my reservations I’m taken in by the beautiful warmth that Nicola keeps exuding and wafting in my direction. Buddhists, for fuck’s sake, I think. Why are they all so nice?

I follow Nicola up the stairs. We wait outside the room where everyone else is, making small talk in whispers until we hear a chime. I walk in behind her. The room is dark, bar the single candle on the altar. Everyone’s seats face the wall. I find it weird to begin with, but I settle down into my space. Another chime. And everyone just… sits.

So I sit. At first I’m conscious of every breath I take. My mind wanders to all sorts of places until I look at the wall and see a bit of paint scratched off, exposing the brown wood of the skirting board. If I squint it looks a bit like Australia. I like the lighting here. Calm. What am I doing here? Focus, focus. I try to feel my feet on the ground, my legs and my thighs on the seat. I try to maintain my hands in the position Nicola said even though my thumbs keep drooping as my mind wanders off. I suddenly become aware of the fact that I’ve seriously lost practice at meditating. I also realise that unguided meditations are scary. But as the minutes tick by, I find myself relaxing. My spine curves a little. I begin to let go. The paint scratch looks more and more like a paint scratch. And another chime.

I stand. More bowing. Lights on.

I look at the room around me. It’s mainly older men, in their fifties. One guy has a head of brown hair and a charming smile, he’s perhaps a little younger. Paul is wearing robes in the corner of the room. “Tea?” he asks.

Finally, now that’s something that I can definitely do.

Tea is brewed. We sit around a table and chat. Paul plays a talk and everyone discusses it at the end. I look around, wondering how I found myself amongst this bunch of total strangers on my 24th birthday but feeling strangely at peace. From Nicola’s initial description, I thought this was going to be incredibly prescriptive. It certainly wasn’t the same as what I’d experienced before, but there was a gentle warmth in that room that came not from the radiators but from the loving energy of the humans inside it.

Suddenly, I felt content. I don’t know how much a part of my life this will ever become but I think how happy I am to have done something purely for me for the first time in a very long time. I think this is the best birthday gift I could’ve given myself.

A year ago on this very day I wrote a post called Birthday thanks.

I turn 24 today. It’s been the quietest birthday of my life, to the point where even I almost forgot that I was turning a year older. Right now, I could not feel more far removed from the gratitude filled, abundant force of energy who warmly put together that joyful little number linked above.

So much has changed. So much has changed. I mean, I know I keep banging on about how much has changed but really, so much has changed. But this post isn’t about how I perceived a life of awesomeness and seemingly landed in a shitpile. It’s about how to create sweetness out of the shitpile. And guys, I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to do that but something tells me that this is going somewhat in the right direction.



Where I am

Where I am pt 2

I’m wary of how much I choose to share on this space. I know my posts have been so abstract recently, pertaining to particular individuals, lots of inside references, charming linguistic embellishment and shards of the deepest parts of loose thought (I’m doing it again, aren’t I? The abstract thing…).

Maybe it’s because I’ve been in a bit of a weird place over the last few months. I remember when I first started blogging and people used to compliment me on how relatable my writing was. Since I made that transition to writing as though no one was reading, I began to let go more and my mind broke free and my writing got weird and fewer people complimented it. None of it was deliberate, simply the organic progression that took place in me figuring myself out. Plus… I just like playing with words.

And now? I feel like I’m touching base again, my feet are slowly finding their way back to the ground and I’m feeling tremendous peace within myself. So as much as I could make this post today an abstract one… I won’t. I’ll say it exactly like it is.

Only three weeks ago, a person walked into my life who turned my whole world upside down, infiltrated every part of my brain that I chose not to share anywhere other than here and stayed. I wasn’t looking for that yet. I didn’t want that right now. After all the bullshit I went through last year, I was entirely anticipating a relationship-free, single, contented life for the foreseeable future. ‘Foreseeable’, meaning the few palpable months that are left of my time at university. With finals coming up and not the foggiest where my career may take me in the next few months time, I can guarantee that there’s been no part of me that actively sought out a relationship. Sure, I jumped on the Tinder bandwagon as is the norm in our strange, strange society now and got bored after a couple of weeks of swiping (although the dude who spoke to me in bad poetry alone was intriguing) and yes, I engaged in the odd fling. Nothing worth writing home (or here) about.

Since I was old enough to speak I’ve been  completely mesmerised by the idea of being in love and of being loved in that way. In short, I was a hopeless, adoring, wide-eyed romantic. By nature, I’m quick to see the good in people, quick to trust people and ready to compromise to avoid conflict and maintain happiness. Yet my naïvety has been pulled apart by a series of experiences and lessons learnt over several years.

I’ve learnt that you can’t trust everyone but that doesn’t mean you should lose faith in people.

I’ve learnt that it’s totally okay to wear your heart on your sleeve but you should also be selective about how much of yourself you give to people who aren’t necessarily ready to give it back to you.

I’ve learnt that the two keys to a loving relationship are a baseline level of compatibility (the greater that is, the easier things will be) and a willingness to make it work. Normally it’s a lack in one of those two domains that cause relationships to fall apart. The willingness isn’t about making massive sacrifices for one another, because if you have a good enough baseline compatibility, you shouldn’t need to… but about the small daily adjustments that you make when you fit someone else into your life. I see my parents doing it all the time.

I also learnt that you absolutely can get what you want if you believe strongly enough that it will happen to you.

I like to think that the culmination of learning points enabled me to mature from the hopeless, adoring wide-eyed romantic to just the adoring, wide-eyed romantic. Romance, perhaps, without the naïvety.

And this person fits into the above worldview like the missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle that I knew was there but wasn’t looking for just yet. One thing I’m usually confident about is the fact that I tend to know what I want and recent changes in my governing belief system (which I will detail in posts to come) mean that I’m also usually confident about getting it. I’ve not publicly shared this thought before but I also believed with complete and utter confidence that there is someone there for me who is right in every way and that said person will walk into my life in exactly the right time.

I even wrote about it. Then I took the post down because I thought it made me sound nuts.

Since my last relationship, complete with its messy and drawn out end stage, I made a promise to myself. That promise was that I’m not going to take any further commitments lightly and that I will not say yes to something unless I am absolutely doubt-free. When you understand yourself to a great degree and are content with your life as it is, but you know, deep down, that something good is coming for you- it does. It just does. And I was right. Rhonda, despite all my reservations, was right. Paulo Coelho was right. MC was right. I was right.

People often think they know me but they don’t really. The way in which I animatedly speak about things, appear to lose myself in situations and use words in a certain way means that people think I’m still that hopeless romantic. What they fail to realise is that I know myself so well. I squeeze learning points out of my every life experience and my wisdom is more expansive than I make out.

And without a hint of ego in this statement… I know I don’t need anyone. I’m exceptionally happy alone. If anything, I’m reluctant to give up my singledom because of it. But this person… this person, unlike everyone else who thinks they know me, is getting to know me on a totally different plane- the plane in which I know myself. This person bears an uncanny resemblance to the post I took down because it made me sound nuts. And this person has made me fall in love in a way I did not know was possible. In a way that extends so so far beyond the honeymoon period.

This feeling, this one of incredible peace, is in knowing that this is the person I have been looking for my whole life and I don’t care what the sounds like in writing, because I just know.

And that’s where I am pt 2.

Where I am

Contained contentment.

I have gone through so much pain this year.

I’m confronting that after a very long time through that scope of hindsight as I look back on months glazed in the salty precipitation of old tears. The pain temporarily withered me down to a point where I no longer wished to think about it but over the last few days and hours I have been reliving it, dissecting it, understanding it and healing from it.

For so long I was so conflicted. So much was tangled up in my neural connections and until perhaps a couple of months ago, when the bulk of those wounds gave way to the healing process. Yet, its final stages still remain- where that scar is yet to quietly fade. That’s where I am right now.

It is through that crystal ball that I inspect what once was. From February until July, a raging war was taking place where I was losing to my ego and learning each time I fell on the battlefield.

There were times where I felt so utterly defenceless with nothing left in me to fight the pain that gripped at my core and ate into me in dark nights in faraway places.

And now I’ve come out of all that to end up… well, here. To my place of contained contentment after the no-mans-land of don’t-think-about-it. It’s the place where I know I will prise open my heart and love will pour out- just not yet. From this place I admire blue skies, sunsets and green fields for what they are and not for the space they donate so I may escape from the consumption of inner turmoil. It’s the place from which I experience utmost gratitude from the tiniest things so that I feel no need to let bigger things sweep me off my feet.

But contained contentment only goes so far. It acts as a comfort blanket- a cosy, predictable cocoon bathed in warm sunshine from which the real thing is bound to emerge and spread its glorious wings.

If I am the caterpillar in that cocoon, do I push its walls to break out of it? Or do I bask in its warmth for just a little longer? But what if it gets so comfortable in there that I stay there for too long and stagnate?

I know me. The flow I experience with writing means that I observe myself as another person would observe me but whilst also knowing my thoughts.

Contained contentment is not for people like me. I have too much to give. I cry at movies. I live for good conversations. I long for human connection both infinite and infinitesmal. I love with a fierce kindness. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I write everything on a blog.

The universe will coax me out of my contained contentment and I will soon be released into the drunken party outside and eventually, as is inevitable, I will feel the wholeness of true, uncontained contentment.

What a precarious place to be.

Where I am

Where I am.

Hello blog.

I know it has been an obscenely long time since any magical, colossal, creative explosions took place on this page and when I think about why that is, it’s really quite difficult to say. I almost couldn’t bear to write for a while. Some posts are minorly successful and the ego boost makes you feel like your next piece needs to match it so you get sucked into the curse of the bad writer where you conjure up a similar piece, aspiring for the same writer’s glow you got before- but piece number 2 was never authentic so the glow never really manifests.

As for today? Well it’s 2.30am on Sunday morning. I am at home. Earlier, I lay in bed and spun my consciousness into a plunging abyss of thought, whilst sleep made itself known that it was a far away prospect. So I padded downstairs in my slipper boots, laptop in arm, shuffled into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. I opened up Gowri’s Page after a very long time and, aside from the poor soul who boosted my stats two days ago by reading everything on this page, my figures have been at such a low that I have returned, armed with the knowledge that no one really cares about my every goddamn thought, except maybe my poor ego and thus I am ready to write something again.

So at 2.30am on Sunday 11th September 2016, here is where I am.

  • Feeling the way I am feeling now is the closest thing to true happiness that I have experienced in an exceptionally long time. I have come to conclude that happiness is an umbrella term to convey emotion that ranges from joy to bliss to contentment. There’s the giddy, high-on-life type of happy… and the ‘I have no internal conflicts right now’ type of happy. Mine falls into the latter. It’s a good happy. A sustainable happy.
  • I am learning what it truly means to love myself by engaging in a practice that is teaching me exactly that.
  • I think I have become less of a judgemental person over recent months. I guess the more of the world you eat, the more judgement you shit right out.
  • I have become acutely aware of the fact that I am growing all the time- to the point where I literally expect life to make me into a different person in a few months time. It’s like I have mini revelations every day.
  • My car’s name is Max and he’s covered in tree sap and the process of seed dispersal is quite literally taking place all over him so I need to take him for a bath sometime this week.
  • I wonder what job fulfilment truly is. Maybe I should ditch life as I know it and become a yoga instructor. If I could actually sit with my legs crossed, it could’ve been a prospect.
  • I have come to philosophise that human presence on this Earth might just be a lucky, happy accident which empowers us to celebrate life and humbles us to respect the vibrating ball of sea and land that made us.
  • I am still healing from the ramifications of a pretty big life event that is making me tread my ground cautiously, but also creating a space inside for this weird, contained contentment.
  • I am still a control freak.
  • I have fallen in love with books all over again and nothing feels more indulgent at this point in time than a piece of chocolate, a steaming cup of Earl Grey and a glorious afternoon spent curled up in a ball where human meets blanket, losing my overworked mind in the life of a fictional character.
  • I have to apply for a job this year and it’s quite scary knowing that in this turbulent medico-political climate, I will be throwing myself into life as a baby doctor.
  • Life is a series of peaks and troughs and it’s interesting to think that our reaction to that is what creates our reality. I’m working on reacting well.

I guess that’s it, blog. That’s where I am right now. Tomorrow, next week, next month and next year it’ll be somewhere else. But right now this is it. And I am quietly content with it.

Fun & Semi-Relatable, Where I am

Hello, I am still here.

Hello internet space. I have missed you. I didn’t think that time would come where I neglected you for so long because I got busy. 

So, lovely space of mine, I thought I would entertain you with some updates on my absolutely riveting life. I jest. Why am I writing such a yawn- inducing blog, one asks? Because, friends, I have a growth mindset. That means I can look back at this little snapshot of my life and reflect on it and see what progress I have made since then. It’s also because I just really really feel like it. And there is really no need for me to justify how I feel, is there? Also, here is a photo of myself, right now, as I write. I can’t even tell you what this is, apart from a total inability to pose.

4-up on 27-10-2015 at 21.53 (compiled)

Here it is chums. Updates. Try not to jump out of your chair in excitement in the manner demonstrated above.

1. I actually love medicine now.
I must admit that last year drained me. There are things no one tells you about being a medical student. Like how crap it is when you’re wandering aimlessly around wards with a stethoscope stuffed in your pocket (but not around your neck, never around your neck, you gotta earn that privilege) not knowing what to do and always being in the way. Things seem different now. I have really noticed that being surrounded by people with a more cheery disposition and a willingness to just have you there makes all the difference. Maybe it’s a result of moving to another hospital… or maybe it’s because people have a little more respect for you as a fourth year because you haven’t just been freshly churned out of pre-clinical medicine, not really knowing anything. All I know is that I love being there now, on most days. I love sitting in clinic just watching consultations, scrubbing into surgery and putting airways in on anaesthetics. It’s easy to forget how privileged we are to see people during a truly intimate part of their lives… during their hospital appointments, or just before having a big operation. I feel myself wanting to be there and wanting to learn.

2. …But I am so done with med school.
I am so ready to have a job and an income and not live in a student house. Seeing other people having graduated, and watching them in full time work now makes me want it so badly for myself. It’s like I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and running at it with full speed.

3. I have realised that when your best friend at uni becomes your housemate, your house becomes your home.
If there was ever such a thing as a game- changer, it has been this. There is nothing in the world more comforting than coming home, wherever home may be. The Dalai Lama says ‘A loving home is the foundation for your life’, and that extends beyond your immediate family. Home can just be that one friend who looks out for you in a way that no one else knows how to. After a long, hard day, I can return knowing that dinner might just be on the table already. A cup of tea will never get made without the offer being extended to the other person. All the buzzfeed posts apply and we proudly sit around thinking we’re infinitely cooler than everyone else because we have each other. We might even have merged our names. Backwards.

4. I still can’t drive.
Let’s get things straight. Firstly, I drive an automatic. That means I have no gears to worry about. Secondly, I have been at this for well over a year. Thirdly, every time I face another driving test my hands shake in fear, I get heart palpitations, I mess up at the first roundabout, followed by messing up the manoeuvre and then I go home and drown my sorrows in some form of cake or other diabetes- inducing substance. I might just be that girl who takes 46 tests before passing. But I’m a freaking soldier so watch out test number 47, I’m comin’ at ya.

5. I have officially given up meat.
And I’m scared to write that because it makes it real. I have wanted to do this for a long time but always found a way to put it off. It hasn’t been easy. For the last week, I have dreamt about fried chicken so anyone who makes this change and doesn’t get cravings has the resolve of a trooper. But I feel good about this particular life choice. I’m not pressurising myself to continue with it forever, but right now I think I’m doing the right thing for myself, the environment and the animals. The second Dalai Lama quote of today’s blog is ‘Be gentle with the earth’. For some reason, this single sentence spoke volumes to me, so I went with my gut and made the change.

6. I still dislike social media.
For social media rant number one, please see this.I never did get Twitter back. I still don’t have the Facebook app on my phone but I check it once a day on the computer so I don’t miss any vital updates. I don’t use snapchat at all anymore. Even with all the funky new animations. I kept my Instagram account, mainly because I follow cool things like yoga, vegetarian food blogs, headspace and the Dalai Lama, of course. My compromise has been to delete all the useless people-pleasing photographs on there and to make it a more accurate reflection of what really matters to me. All in all, I feel like I have my detached, pre-snapchat story brain back a little bit. It’s good.

7. I am really scared about what is going to happen to the NHS and royally pissed off that the actual contract can’t be found anywhere.
I’m not even going to start on this one because, frankly, enough people have blogged about it. But it’s there, it’s shit and I’m not impressed with Jeremy Hunt in the slightest.

8. I am in love.
I have spent a long time thinking about what those four letters really mean, and what it is to truly feel that way. The internet says that there are two parts to it; attraction, followed by attachment. I have come to the conclusion that true love is not necessarily about the intensity of emotion but about really growing with a person and wanting them to be a part of your life in a way that no one else could ever be. And there’s a whole lot more to it, but I think I’ll leave it there.

9. I am meditating lots.
Yes, yes, yes! I am keeping on top of my headspace journey. For the beginning of that, feel free to go clicking here. My morning routine has become my favourite part of the day. I’ll get up, put the heater fan on, fill the kettle, brush my teeth, and once the kettle has boiled, I’ll make a large mug of indian loose- leaf chai on the hob, come back to my freshly warmed room, switch my fairy lights on and linger over my tea. Then, time permitting, I’ll meditate for ten minutes. Even if I only reach the lingering stage and don’t get to the meditation part, that’s okay. But devoting that kind of time to yourself first thing in the morning changes your whole day. As for meditation? I can feel the benefits of it radiating out of me.

10. I don’t know how to do a clinical audit.
I am far too creative and airy fairy for this Microsoft Excel palaver.

11. I didn’t condition my hair for a week.
This was the definition of drama. Picture this… shower 1: the conditioner runs out, so you vow to get some more. Shower 2: You forget. Cue dry hair. Shower 3: You learn from the deep and dirty mistakes from Shower 2, and go to the bathroom armed with your bottle of Herbal Essences, only to realise… it’s shampoo. You have already shampooed your hair. And squirted more shampoo out of the thing you mistakenly thought was conditioner because you were too incompetent to read the label, so now you either have to double shampoo your already shampooed locks or try and squeeze the now contaminated shampoo into the tiny hole through which it was squeezed. Not ideal. Shower 4: You forgot… again. You see your housemate’s conditioner staring at you and think… ‘I’ll just take the tiniest bit and hopefully she won’t notice’. But your guilt is so heavy that you merely use a drop. It makes no difference whatsoever.

That sounded like a soap opera in more ways than one… but that was my actual life for a week. What even.

12. I discovered Pinterest.
And I look at beautiful bohemian style houses every single night before I sleep and dream of a place where I will one day live, filled with patterned carpets, cool lampshades, lots of colour and all the trinkets from all my travels arranged in the most perfect manner of feng shui imaginable. Get your cosmopolitan, mainstream, minimalistic, clean cut decor out of here. Now smell the incense and appreciate real beauty. In fact, if this doesn’t awaken your inner hippie, then maybe it’s time to book yourself a meditation retreat in the Himalayas.

Well there it is. I’m not entirely sure what that was. Maybe I just wanted to remind myself that I am alive and well and breathing and despite all the stress I put myself under… I am really freaking goddamn happy and grateful in life.

Keep dancing to the music inside you my loves,

Gowri xxxxxx

P.S. I bought conditioner today. And I double checked that it was, indeed, conditioner. In fact, it was Herbal Essences ‘dazzling shine’, reduced to half price at £1.84 (yes, conditioner is extortionately priced). Winning. Bargain. The shine is real.