Here we are, almost a year later and water has poured into our flat from above and is seeping up the walls from the ground below. Really pleasant. The builder (shout out to him) who came to fix it all used all my toilet roll and broke my hoover, but not before putting dust and concrete rubble all over the floor which now sticks to the bottoms of my feet when I run from the shower to my bedroom. He also fixed literally nothing.

The other relevant and important thing to note here is that I never wrote on my blog, I wear the same thing everyday and I grew out my fringe because it couldn't cope with the humidity of the London Bus service or underground.

This morning, I agreed to rent a TEENY tiny but truly delightful studio flat from October 5th. When I went to view it I was stroking walls like a true lunatic, feeling for any sign of slight cold-dampness. It's fair to say I've been traumatised by my current living conditions but this dinky little abode passed my test.

And as is clearly a tradition in my life, with a move of living location, comes a renewed hope that I might be able to stick at blogging. Also, being so massively overexcited for my new flat my first post is going to be INTERIOR based and if it doesn't happen within the next week someone email me abuse.

I'm hoping I might be able to stand out from the mass of fashion and lifestyle blogs by talking more about my life in general (riveting I promise) and firstly about cramming myself into a diddly little space. I'm going all cray for Ikea storage systems and patterned, stackable boxes kids. Watch out.