I’d like to preface this post by saying that I am wearing extremely long false nails from Primark (£1.50 a pack, last about a week if you pile on the glue and look great) and I cannot type very well. This has very little to do with this actual post, and I’ll correct any typos, but I like to set the scene. Anyway…

Thirty.

I am thirty. 30. 30 years old. I orbited my last year of my twenties and on the 31st of December, specifically at 5.17pm, I turned 30.

I think I’m supposed to be more upset than I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly thrilled that I’ve got to this age and I’m still dog-less and not the editor of Vogue, but 13 year old me had big dreams with little to no motivation so here we are. 30 years old, living in Edinburgh with my boyfriend, in a beautiful rented flat we can juuuust afford. I can drive, I have a little white (/muddy) Corsa, in which I zip up and down the motorway each day to and from Stirling for work. I’m in year 5 at the Union, now the Communications, Marketing & Events Coordinator and yes that is three different jobs in one because I am a fantastic multi-tasker. And… well other than being a friend, a daughter, a sister and a granddaughter – I have nothing else to really say about me. I stopped blogging in 2016 after anxiety swept in and my current hobbies include our new Xbox and obsessing over Mrs Hinch on Instagram.

That’s where this post has come in – I’m embarrassed about it. I’ve been job hunting and I can present a cracking CV with loads of great experience and hard bloody work but when they ask me what my hobbies are or what I like to do in my spare time, I’m like ‘uh, I love to eat’. I’ve got such guilt about not being a more involved person in my own life. I spent the past couple of years getting myself together and now I’ve plateaued. In a recent interview, they asked me why I wanted to be an Events Manager and not a Content Creator since I wrote blogs, ran social media accounts/websites and had an English degree. I said it was because that side of my experience didn’t excite me or challenge me the way running events does, and that’s pretty sad. Or is it big-headed? Either way, I feel like I should be embracing all the areas of my life that both ignite my fire and play to my strengths.

I had a small epiphany about my life whilst on the loo at a restaurant last night, just a pee folks – it was a quick epiphany. An epip, if you will, and it was that I should start writing again and I should do a post about where I was. I spent years writing bar & restaurant reviews and I do miss it! I miss the thrill of PR invites and going to new openings. Before, I was writing what I wanted to say but I was so conscious of what people might think of it. Now, I’m writing because I enjoy it. I like to sit and lose myself in a quiet room, usually at an awkward time like just before I’m supposed to put something in the oven or after the heating has clicked off so I end up frozen. It’s quite therapeutic.

The other difference is that Jamie and I are about to embark on a new journey we call ‘not putting butter in everything’. I am a bridesmaid at my dear, oldest pal’s wedding in August and I want to look and feel my best – mostly so she doesn’t edit me out of the photos. So we’re getting ripped. Heathy, sensible food, big walks, joining a new gym, taking on some new healthy habits etc etc. This doesn’t mean I’ll only be posting about places that serve quinoa, but some posts might be about healthy dinners that Jamie has made me or a word-dump of how it’s going so far. Oh, if you’re reading this and you’ve not seen the # we have for the incredible food Jamie makes us, it’s here – #jamiecooksforlauren and it’s probably about to get a lot more green.

So aye, basically I’m back and I hope that’s ok. First post is either going to be about the alpacas we walked for my birthday or Tom Kitchin’s new place…what a bloody fabulous start to 2019. HWFG.