Reminiscing: let's face it, it's a nicer and more romantic word for 'procrastinating'.

But, since I'd not like to admit I've spent the last two hours procrastinating, I'm going to call it reminiscing.

Let's be honest here, even if it makes me sound vain: I was looking for a Twitter display picture. In the past me and my friends took a lot of photos, we took photos of everything - eating lunch? Take a photo. On the toilet? Take a photo. (Oh, in case you don't believe me, here's a photo my friend kindly took whilst I was 'avin a wee at Pendulum this time last year)

Lovely that, isn't it?

Moving on.

So the moral is me and my friends took pictures of everything we did. It was actually pretty intrusive and materialistic and I spent a lot of money on camera batteries when I wasn't carrying my SLR which was a lot of the time since the places we sometimes go are, again being frank, a bit shit.

So whilst rummaging around on file folders this evening, failing to find pictorial proof that I still have fun, I came across a lot of photos taken in the last year. There are some good photos, some very bad photos, some incredibly ugly photos, some toilet photos (but of course, you now know that already), some blonde photos, some brunette photos, some red-head photos, some photos of me having a wicked time with people I haven't spoken to for about half a year now.

It seems like a pretty reasonable time to reflect on the last year, and this blog so far has been very wordy. [Though after posting this I realized why, I prefer actually writing about real stuff. Oops.]

So this feels like a few weeks ago but actually it was way back in February. Hannah and I always thought Year 1 was a massive doss so we took days off college to visit galleries in London... but we usually wound up in Camden eating Chinese food. We once even tested out the Camden tattooists, which is one of those things you have to do when you're a young dickhead. So I've done it now.

Slowly starting to realize the majority of good things happened before March, and after June, but anyway - in February I was introduced to the music of Frank Turner by my boyfriend at the time. Sometimes I actually think about emailing him to thank him for that (though I haven't yet and probably wont) because Frank Turner is bloody great. Not only is he bloody great, but he sparked an entire love for men with beards, "I like that in a man". Seeing him live at the Bullingdon Arms on Cowley Road and then at Reading Festival, though 2 entirely different atmospheres, well basically I think he could be the second Jesus. He has the beard. Anyway.

So on the subject of Reading Festival and to prove that good things outside February happened... Reading Festival! That was pretty good, until the third day where I started hallucinating and passing out and vomming, until then it was the most hilarious weekend I'd had with Hannah and Jarvis Cocker and Julian Casablancas ever.

Anyone who knows me nowadays knows I have this nutty life partner Coxxy (or Amy) who has this nickname probably based on how entirely crude, drunk and cockney we are when we're around each other. Oh and the fact that her surname is Cox. Which opens so many other crude doors. If you have any ideas that I might be a polite or eloquent young lady, you've clearly never met me in her company. Anyway the point of this is that we weren't as stupidly cockney/in love before June the 14th - a night of cocktails and anti-heroin lighting. (Because when reminiscing it's important to get sentimental)

Aaand back to February, I went to Lanzarote for a week - and I went with my dad. Now I know what you're thinking and I know it's along the lines of, why would you go on holiday with your dad? And here are the answers. One: going on holiday with your dad means you pay for nothing. Two: going on holiday with your dad means you can enjoy family company without your mum's cooking (sorry mum.) Three: when your dad is as bloody hilarious as mine, you will probably be drunk every night and making him order you 'Sex on the Beach' at the bar just because he's a good sport and it's funny to watch him do it. Also, if you've never been to the Canary Islands, they're kind of commercial and tacky but the weather is gorgeous and after a really shit British winter a week or more there is exactly what you need. I came home with an incredibly alluring sunburn.

So actually, I'm going to wrap that up for now. There are a zillion other highlights from the last year - way more important ones, but have you ever noticed that when stuff is genuinely really fucking good you're not thinking too much about wacking your camera out? Just a thought.