Admittedly, I’m not super proud of this story. It doesn’t paint me in the best light, however I do think that it is an interesting story. I wrote this piece for the Elle Writing Competition. It didn’t win - clearly, otherwise I wouldn’t be posting it - but I still think it’s worth posting.
via GIPHY
Head pounding, like my brain was repeatedly butting against the front of my skull punishing me for the previous night’s actions. I tried to push myself up, my arms were too weak to push past the weight of my chest, the realisation of what I’d done. That, and the actual arm of the man laid next to me on the tiny single bed. I reached down towards the floor, hoping to find my glasses and maybe what was left of my dignity and common sense.
I found nothing.
So, on Sunday I am turning 26 years old. I thought that I would be bothered about it, but I’m not. Getting older just doesn’t seem to bother me, it hasn’t for a long, long time. I actually quite like getting older because I like to reflect and see how I’ve changed and what I did over the year. I know some people don’t like to reflect, especially when they have lost someone throughout the year, but I think if you are constantly wanting to evolve as a person then this is an important practice to get into. Or maybe I’m just weird like that.
- I may no longer care about getting older, but when I was 9 turning 10 terrified me because entering double digits meant I was getting older and thus becoming an adult.
So, I have stolen the idea for this series from Sarah from the wonderful blog Sarah in Wonderland. Please check out her blog as it’s awesome and she is super lovely! I love the idea of sharing our firsts, so every so often I am going to recount one of my ‘firsts’, now I can’t guarantee that they’ll be interesting or funny, but they’ll be good or at least they will be in my own opinion.
I have no idea how this one is going to be taken. Absolutely no idea. I have no memory of writing this but it has been kept by my grandparents who appear to keep every piece I’ve written. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. From what I’ve been told I was about 8 when this was written. It was also written in five, yes FIVE, different coloured gel pens. You know, because one clearly isn’t enough. Three of them were glittery too which just amuses me as after almost 20 years the pages are still all sparkly. Please keep in mind that none of the text you are about to read has been changed. All the grammar mistakes, misspellings, and complete and utter nonsense you are about to read have been kept the same. I wouldn’t even know where to begin in editing this. When I read things like this, I can see why people always thought I was weird, I think this is super weird!
This blog post was originally published on Madeleine Larmour Blog on 3rd January 2016. Whilst the blog still exists as an archive, I no longer chose to post there and thus have decided to move some of the content here to share with all of you.
This summer I was very fortune to be able to spend six whole weeks (and then a bit extra) in Thailand, more specifically Koh Tao with my dad. For 11 months of the year, he lives in Saudi Arabia where he works whilst I still reside in the UK. Six weeks is also the longest piece of time we have spent together in over 10 years.
Thailand for me had always been a far-flung pipe dream because I had it in my head that there was no way I'd be able to fly out that far. I'm not the best flyer. The idea of flying doesn't bother me, neither does take off or landing, it's the 'what ifs' that set me off. As being a writer and creating fiction is what I do, I come up with the most ridiculous 'what ifs' you've ever heard. I've also had to learn to internalise them as I used to verbalise them when I was younger but it used to peeve everyone around me, especially when I sat next to someone who was terrified of flying. Yet this year I managed my first long haul flight, my first non-budget airline travel and my first solo long haul flight. I got sick during the trip and left Thailand several days after dad, but that's another blog post. I had to fly back by myself and I've only ever flown once by myself - a 45-minute flight to and from Belfast - so 17 hours flying without the time I spent waiting for connections in Bangkok and Dubai was a bit of a shock to the system.
Overall, I enjoyed my trip to Thailand. I was able to learn to dive which I didn't think I would be able to do with my chronic illnesses. Yet here I am as an open water diver - I started my advance but then got too ill to continue.
Be warned, this post is picture heavy!
So yet again, we have somehow stumbled into a New Year. Sure, we’re a little battered and bruised from 2016 but we’ve gotten through to the light at the end of the tunnel. That light is another new year and with it, it brings the renewed promise of change. Change that doesn’t usually stick, but it’s always nice to be reminded that we have the ability to change even if it’s unlikely to last.
This April, I turned 25. Turning 25 I half expected a panic to wash over me because if I was a piece of clothing, I'd be classed as vintage. Instead, I didn't panic and I still haven't. I just accepted for perhaps the first time in my life that I am getting older and there is nothing in the world that can change that. However, I can change the experiences I have of those years. So after some consideration and the realisation that I have spent the last two years essentially doing nothing thanks to my illness, I have decided that I am going to make a change to that and come up with a bucket list of things I would like to achieve in the near future before I turn 30. 30 might be five years away but if life has taught me anything is that those five years will come quicker than I want them to. They won't take forever to come like a Friday evening does when it is Monday.
I've been stuck at what to do for my first blog post. After a little bit of thinking and reading other blogs. I have finally settled on doing the get to know me tag. I personally can't think of anything better for a first blog post. So here are some questions about me and hopefully you know a bit more about me now.
1. Are you named after someone?
Neither my brother or myself are named after anyone. My parents made the decision not to name us after family otherwise we were going to end up with a string of names that were a mixture of German and English and wouldn't blend in wherever we lived.
