So... the list.

My fifty 'must do' list inspired this blog, so I should probably go into more detail.

(Credit)

I'm always writing lists. Shopping lists, 'clothes I must buy' lists, targets I should hit for work, holiday lists. The list of lists is endless (see what I did there?!). When I first met my boyfriend, we wrote ourselves a list of things we wanted to do together, and slowly, over the months, we ticked off everything on it (I'll have to dig out that particular list at some point and put it up here). It was great because it meant that we talked about what we wanted to do, wrote it down, and learnt loads about each other in the process. So yeah... I love lists.

This list of things is personal to me. I've given myself a pretty long space of time to tick everything off - two and a half years, in fact. And I hope that everything is manageable in the time I've given myself. I think probably the hardest task on the list is the one to write regularly here - I'm a starter, I have great ideas for huge projects, but I'm not a finisher. I'm determined this time to complete my top fifty, and in the process, get some great memories down so that I can look back and feel like I've achieved something.

So... onwards with The List. Wish me luck.

The first post

So, that there photo below is me. Not the overly cute feline. The girl pulling a stupid face next to her.

Mia, my purrfect furry friend

First's are difficult, aren't they? The first time you go to the shop on your own; the first time you go on a date with someone of the opposite sex; the first time you french kiss.

My first kiss was a nightmare.

I was dressed to the nine's (okay, I was dressed in a brand new French Connection t-shirt that read 'fcuk me' - shudder - and a grey, pinstripe skirt more suited to my mother than me), standing churlishly in the corner of a dark nightclub (it didn't really matter than it was only 7pm on a Friday evening - it felt naughtily late) refusing to look at the boy who had just come over to me.

I can't really remember much about him except that he was slightly overweight and smelt like raisons. And then all of a sudden his lips were on mine, his tongue (slippery, thick, violating, I thought of slugs and snails and puppy dog tails) firmly in my mouth, sloshing around for what felt like an hour (but was probably only 30 seconds).

And that was that. I had had my first kiss. As he went in for the second kiss (he had been slobbering over me for a lifetime, we both didn't enjoy it, why on earth was he going in for another?!) I turned to my friends. I remember thinking I had probably grown a bit taller, my boobs must be that much bigger - gosh, was he my boyfriend?!

He wasn't, obviously. I never even saw him again. And when I looked in the mirror I wasn't taller and my boobs were still little bee-stings under my t-shirt. But I felt different, liberated. I was finally a woman. Little did I know...

Thankfully, this first post was slightly less traumatic than my first kiss.