Deep Shit, Arkansas


Preach it sister! *does z snaps*

I recently got to the stage where I thought you know what, Prince Charming has clearly bought a cheapo backstreet sat nav and got lost en route.  I could sit in my fairy tale tower and wait for him to rock up or I could stop being such a fanny and get on and do the things I want without waiting for him.

Et voila.

I’ve christened this new phase ‘Thelma No Louise’ because frankly, Thelma has better hair and gets to shag Brad Pitt, plus she’s a total badass who suggests driving over a cliff to escape their captors. Talk about cojones. I’m not about to gun my Hybrid over Beachy Head but the ‘hair down’ life’s too short approach is one I’m channeling from here on out. I came into some money in April and I could have been sensible and put it into my pension for when I’m a grey haired (psh alright, MORE grey haired) old woman but in a moment of clarity I thought sod it and booked flights to Boston for three weeks.

As much as I love the idea of three weeks in Beantown chasing after Harvard boys who row boats I figured it might get a little tedious after a while. Y’know breaking all those hearts and all… So I’ve thrown in a long weekend in Chicago with Charlotte; catching up with some very old friends in Vermont; and two weeks of hitting the road in my convertible red Mustang* checking out the best that New England has to offer.

I’m not just going to be blogging my trip because frankly you’re get really bored really quickly if I fill the next four months just wanging on about what I’m excited to do out there but I also don’t have a clear idea of what I am going to write about. Probably whatever falls out of my brain which could frankly be bloody anything because my brain feels a bit like Mr Magorium’s Wonder Emporium at times, so let’s see shall we?

*Hyundai Accent – not convertible and probably poo brown coloured.


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