Bullet Journaling- Part 1- what is it and what do I need?


This sounds over dramatic but I really mean it when I say bullet journaling has changed my life. It has helped me become so much more organised and together. I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through my final year of uni without everything all in one neat little book like this.

After seeing beautiful photos of them all over instagram and reading peoples high praise of the organising method, I decided to give it a go myself last August. I found nice notebook in my collection- just a simple lined one. I popped out and brought some washi tape from ASDA, fished out some coloured fineliners from my stationary hoard and dove straight in. I did a bit of googling to figure out the basics and got experimental from there.

At the start I did feel some pressure to make my bullet journal perfect and include all sorts of different charts and lists. But that’s the great thing about bullet journals- you make them up as you go along so you can change your mind and methods as many times as you want. It didn’t take me too long to figure out exactly what works for me. I’m now onto my second bullet journal and tend to stick to a fairly simple set up, which I think would be very helpful for beginners.

In this part I’m just going to explain what a bullet journal is and suggest some supplies for getting you started. Then, in my next post, I will teach you the basics and show you how I lay out my bullet journal these days.


Before I get stuck in I’m gonna quickly explain what a bullet journal is for anyone that doesn’t know. A bullet journal is a simple notebook that brings together the ideas of a journal, planner, notebook, list book and calendar. The method was devised by a guy called Ryder Caroll and has a few basic principles that help make it such an effective organisational tool (I will go into those in my next post). Once you have the basics down you can get creative and add anything you want to your bullet journal! Art, collages, lyrics, memories, photos-whatever, it’s yours to play around with.

Tools! All you really need to start a bullet journal is a notebook (dotted or squared is best but lined or plain works just fine too) and a pen or even a pencil. You lay everything inside out yourself so you can adapt it to your needs and preferences. Everything I do in my journal could easily be achieved with those two things and maybe a ruler to help keep things tidy.

Heres a list and links to the thinks I use for my bullet journal:

This all adds up but you can make it as cheap or expensive as you want. You can use any stickers for decoration because boy can planner stickers be pricey, luckily my lovely Mum brought me the ones I have for Christmas. Little hand drawn doodles can bee great for decoration too if you don’t want to use stickers. Any pen will do, although I would always recommend a fineliner of some sort. I didn’t use stencils or watercolours at all in my original journal, they just add a nice touch.

Right- that’s it for now! In my next post I will break things down for you and show you how I organise my bullet journal. Trust me, it’s so easy! I have literally no artistic talent and I manage to make mine look pretty good and more importantly functional. This method of organisation really has changed my life and maybe it could change yours too so make sure you check out my next post!





Just a little something I wrote in the early hours of a morning.


Some of the best things happen at 4am. Watching beautiful sunrises. Sometimes hanging out of attic windows in the nude. Sometimes down by the river with your friends on a cold New Year’s day. Sometimes with your girlfriend, hand in hand gazing over the docks. You might snuggle up in a dank spare room, happy to finally be alone as the buzz wears off. Maybe you are curling up sweaty and happy after a tinder hook up. Or perhaps drifting off peacefully in the arms of a girl you’ve been crushing on for months. Occasionally it’s on a river bank with friends as a summer storm rages on outside or in a noisy festival field, trying to ignore the smell of warm cider in the air. More often it’s on a random sofa after a long and blurry night, you might be resting your head on a stranger’s leg and using a smokey hoodie as a blanket but you’re comfortable and that’s all that matters. You could even be in a hotel room, sleepy after a wedding, relieved to be free from your heels. But most of the time you just got distracted, lost track of time. Well that’s what you tell yourself. Really you know that 4am is a magical time and you’d hate to miss it with sleep.


A Salty Kiss

So hey, I got published a little while back which is pretty damn cool. A local publishers (Sea Post Press) run by some students from the English department at my uni decided to put together an anthology of third year work. We were all invited to submit work and I submitted several poems but really didn’t expect anything to come out of it.


I was so surprised when I flicked open my copy of the finished book and saw my name on the content page! They chose to publish my poem “The Bible Woman”. I wrote this poem back in late 2016 for my writing for a digital age module. It was created by searching the word “woman” in an online copy of the bible and the putting a a list poem together based off of the search results.

I see it as both being a critical look at how women are presented in the bible as well as commentary on how no matter how women act they are always demonised in one way or another. You might take something totally different away from it and that is welcomed. So here is my poem that featured in the third year anthology; A Salty Kiss. 

The Bible Woman

Thou art a virtuous woman.
strange woman
rebellious woman
wise woman
beautiful woman
cursed woman
wicked woman
barren woman
evil woman
whorish woman
foolish woman
gracious woman
fair woman
brawling woman
angry woman
contentious woman
adulterous woman
odious woman
travailing woman
delicate woman
menstruous woman
removed woman
unmarried woman
free woman
what women
certain woman
this woman
every woman
all the woman

So yeah, my first ever published poem. I’m pretty damn proud of myself. I really hope now I’m done with uni I still manage to continue writing poetry and lyrics. I’m going to try, I need to keep  my creative juices flowing.



Time To Get Moving


Well hello there! Nice to see you again. I am now a 22 year old, third year creative writing student and I think it’s about time I got more of my writing online. I’m still going to be writing new content but I thought it would be fun to share more of the work I have created since being at uni. I would love feedback so as always feel free to comment and let me know what you think.

First I’m going to share a song I wrote with you. I wrote this for my lyric writing module last year, but the ideas had been stewing in my mind for a while. I really want to actually write some music for this track and record it at some point (with the help of Oli of course because I have very little musical talent). All of my lyrics are pretty personal and this one is no different but like all art it is very much elaborated and embellished unlike reality. Enjoy!


Failed Love Songs (for failed people)

We both fell fast and we both fell hard
like some Shakespeare shit taken to heart.
I ate Chinese at yours, you slept over at mine
it wasn’t all that romantic, never had the time.
I guess we wrote notes and texted into the night
just for a moment we went together just right.
Didn’t question tomorrow, didn’t cherish today
we just went with the flow, come what may.

It never really got started
We never really took off
Sure we made mix tapes
and maybe danced in the rain
We went to the movies
and had silly nicknames.

But it never really started,
we never really took off
You didn’t bring me home,
didn’t sing from the rooftops.
And this ain’t a love song,
another failed love song.

We went to cult movies, laughed in the dark
we marched through the streets making our mark.
I thought it was love, you thought it was fun
we never spoke about it, just decided to run.
I traced your freckles and played with your hair,
We tumbled to your bed without a care.
We woke up and I knew things were strange,
When you looked at me your eyes had changed.

It never really got started
We never really took off
Sure we made mix tapes
and maybe danced in the rain
We went to the movies
and had silly nicknames.

But it never really started,
we never really took off
You didn’t bring me home,
didn’t sing from the rooftops.
And this ain’t a love song,
another failed love song.

Would it have worked?
Could we have cared?
Would we have lasted?
Let’s not wonder, let’s not worry
maybe it’s better that…

It never really got started
We never really took off
Sure we made mix tapes
and maybe danced in the rain
We went to the movies
and had silly nicknames.

But it never really started,
we never really took off
You didn’t bring me home,
didn’t sing from the rooftops.
And this ain’t a love song,
another failed love song.


So there you go, the first song I am sharing on this blog. I hope you enjoyed it or at least found it kinda interesting. Feel free to leave feedback and let me know if you would like to hear this as a final recorded song one day.



A Day- A series of prose poems (4)

Sorry for the radio silence over the last few weeks. I am back for good now! I now have no job (don’t worry it’s all groovy and good) so can get back to focusing on the blog and other fun, awesome, creative things! I have so many things I want to write about and make videos about and share with you. Trust me, it’s gonna rock!

Anyway, for now I have the fourth and final of my prose poems for you! It’s been a long time coming but I hope you are still interested and still enjoy it. This was actually the first of the four poems I wrote and is probably my favourite. I sat outside, gazing up at the moon and the vast darkness of the night letting the inspiration flow. To me it’s the most organic and flowing of all of the poems. Maybe pop back and refresh yourself on parts 1, 2 and 3 before continuing?



Hiding behind the houses the full moon peaks out. Pale moonlight, lulling you to sleep. Pulling you towards dreams of moonbeans and distant glowing galaxies full of mysteries.   A huge orb glowing in the sky, making the vast darkness less threatening. Aura rings of amber, green and blue creating a magical air. Illuminating the peaks of the clouds, creating mountain ranges in the sky. The luminance making everything seem calm, bathed in silvery light. Reflecting crystal particles in the road creating diamond landscapes. Light playing on the surface of the moon revealing calm faces of death. Clouds wandering slowly by, smoke from the mouth of Mother Nature herself. Stars speckling the sky. They twinkle and burn, flashing boldly in the night. So far away yet beaming light down to the longing eyes of a human.  A black cat emerging from the shadows. Its piercing green eyes startling in the quietness of the night. Light reflecting off of its sleek black coat as it disappears back into its own personal darkness. Trees becoming striking silhouettes reaching up, up up, as though trying to touch the light. Their branches like lightning strikes; jet black and jagged, their sharpness amplified by the shadows. Beautiful and wild, clambering and free. The reflections in calm pools creating galaxies in their depths. You could dive in and swim amongst the stars touched by their refreshing light. The more you look the more you see. The sky is filled with rich shades. Deep navys, royal purples even vibrant hints of turquoise. An intricate painting, layer upon layer. The moon’s own masterpiece. You could stare at the moon for hours as it moves across the sky, always seeing something new. It’s uneven surface full of crevices for light to hide. New faces appear less death like than before. More smiling and welcoming. A shooting star streaking leaving a trail of light behind it. Long and straight like a path leading the way. Fireworks shooting through the sky, mimicking the stars brilliance. Colourful light, different, unnatural but still beautiful. Shocking reds accompany the silver stars. Briefly entwined in an other worldly display of light and colour. Humanity interplaying with nature imagining new wonders.  


So there it is! All four parts of my first ever series of prose poems laid out for the world to see. I would love to hear your thoughts and what your favourite poem is. Drop a comment and I will be sure to reply.

I know I’ve said this a million times before but keep your eyes open for more content real soon, I promise!


A Day- A Series of prose poems (3)

As promised today I am sharing the third in my series of prose poems about the wonders of natural light. Today we have moved on to Sunset.



The sun slowly slipping away leaving amber streaks across the sky. Still peaking over the burning trees lingering on, not quite ready to say goodbye. The air is filled with fiery tones of orange, red and gold. It lights up the sand, revealing flashes of green sea glass and pearlescent broken shells. They shimmer along the beach soaking up the last rays of day. Long shadows forming across the landscape. Stretching and reaching, thin and spindly. The sun low in the sky transforming everything, manipulating it with its determined light.  As it lowers in the sky anything that crosses its path becomes a silhouette dark and bold against a burning backdrop.  The remaining clouds lit up from below, their soft edges melting into streaked scarlet pools. This dramatic light will not last, already the softer lighter shades are swooping in. Delicate pinks and purples start to form in the sky. Light and bright, cool and soothing. They bring the evening air with them, washing calmness all over the land. The colours merge and swirl creating watercolour wonders. Light merging into dark, colour into colour into colour. The sun shines bright and white, clinging onto this moment as is continues to slide from view. The last slithers of sunlight dance over the waters surface, glinting and playing before diving away. The sky remains a stack of colours, fading as the sun moves further from sight. Light is fading now too ,the colours losing their richness waiting for the pale moonlight to set in. The final flames of light lick at the horizon, a thin orange line stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction. Intense and concentrated as though all the power of the sun is focused on that one strip.  It burns on the furthest stretches of of ocean until it fades from view. Everything is still and quiet, full of anticipation for nightfall.


Next Monday will be the fourth and finally poem in this series. Odd fact- the last one was actually the first one I wrote! I sat outside gazing up at the moon and jotting down ideas. I hope you enjoyed this weeks offering, feel free to leave me some feedback in the comments.


A Day- A series of prose poems (2)

As promised I have the second of my four light inspired prose poems for you today. I hope you enjoy.



Brightness, the sort that gets in your eyes, your skin, your hair. The type you can feel in your body, in your bones, long after the sun has set. Giving even the darkest colours intense vibrancy. Taking a bland red brick wall and bringing out rich shades of russet and burgundy. Waves of expectation bouncing off burning tarmac. A haze of summery promise, a mirage trick of the light. Streaming through emerald canopies making shadow spirographs around your feet tickling your toes and sneaking in the gaps of your sandals. It whips through your hair along with the breeze, brushing your neck with warmth and comfort. The ocean becoming a vast expanse of crystal particles, sparking and sharp, rich and inviting. The depths seem less scary, full of sunshine and wonder. The water becoming warm and inviting, dive in, you know you want to. Interrupting photographs making glaring rainbows appear in corners. Smiles even brighter, hair golden and luminous, eyes glinting with the hope of day.  Seeping into every corner of the patio, bouncing off glass windows, sneaking into plant pots. Soft candyfloss clouds illuminated from within, pure white floating peacefully across the sky. Light dancing through the blackberry bushes, swaying delicately in the breeze. It leaps over roof tops and through television aerials, over green meadows and beaming off the slick wings of birds. It burns into shiny metal cars, making them boiling to the touch, soaking into the seats waiting for you to come back burning at your thighs. Light living in the flowers, moving through their leaves willing them to grow. It curls around your back hugging you and keeping you warm. It only stays this bright for a few hours a day, it needs to be cherished before it fades away. This precious glowing midday light can be kept in your heart. Remembering that feeling and that moment. When light was everywhere, seeping into your mind, washing over everything and making it glow.


Part three will be coming at you next Monday so keep and eye out for that. My next post will be a bit of a food review and a bit about my current big lifestyle change. Oooh so much mystery! That should be up tomorrow or Wednesday so woop woop! I am full of ideas right now that I’m super excited to share with you!


A Day- A series of prose poems (1)

So a while back for uni we had to write a piece inspired by the book Light by Eva Figes. Although I didn’t particularly enjoy the book I really enjoyed this assignment. I chose to write four prose poems focused on light at different times of the day. I went out at each time and observed the light, made notes then worked some creative magic and boom. I thought I would share one a week with you for the next four weeks. So here is Dawn:



Breaking through the window before even the birds. Shining on your duvet wishing for you to wake. It creeps through that gap in your curtains, invading your morning slumberous dreams, nudging you to arise. Light lingering in the glass of your mirror, finding it’s way onto your creaky floorboards and creeping under the doorway into the hall. It illuminates the floating dust making tiny fairies dance through the gentle air. Slowly sneaking over the fields, waking up a new day. Making morning dewdrops glisten like hidden treasure nestled in the long grass. It wakes up the animals and makes the cockerel crow. As it touches your face you can’t help but smile because you know that the light will get you through, luring you outside to play and waste the day away. Light that is pure like a breath of fresh air. It fills your room as you fling open the curtains, welcoming the morning in. It floods the room filling every nook and cranny, spilling over the carpet and stretching from wall to wall. It is with you as you dress, glinting off your jewelry and making your new red dress pop. It streams through the net curtains in your kitchen as you make a cup of coffee, light so bright you have to shield your eyes and pause for a moment. It likes being noticed. It forms intricate shadow patterns on the wall behind you and dances across the photos on the fridge bouncing off their shiny surfaces. It catches the tiny wisps of hair still out of pace as you read the paper, making them look translucent around your face. Light glints of of your marmalade as you spread your toast, reminding you of the sun that grew those oranges. You can tastes its brightness as you take the first bit and enjoy its sweetness. It follows you to the bathroom, pouring through a high up window and reflecting off of the sink full of rippling water. You are washing your face in sunbeams today.


I hope you enjoyed this first poem, let me know what you think in the comments and look out for Midday next Monday.


Self Portrait- a poem

Last week in my creative writing class we were asked to write a “self portrait” poem. I really enjoyed writing it, so much so that I was late meeting my Mum because I was on a writing roll. Anyway, I thought I would share it with you all. It may seem a little narcissistic to write a poem about yourself but if you think of it so is a selfie and as I mentioned here they rock! Talking of which time to include a selfie to accompany this poem.



Self Portrait

She always wakes with messy hair, no matter what. It’s kind of a sign that nothing she can do can make her life tidy, make it make sense. Every brush stroke in the mirror always pulls out hairs. Some fall to the floor. Leaving her mark. You always know if she’s been over, little bright strands marking the carpet. They make him smile, it’s like she never had to leave. Despite this morning chaos she always pulls it out the bag. Ready with a smile and some garish patterns on her back. Gets dressed in the dark, yet somehow it works. Chipped nail-varnish adding to the ensemble. Always in flats never heels. “What if I want to run down a grassy hill?” She always says. You can see her point. Hooking up her skirt, off on a mini adventure. Probably seen a flower again that she simply must instagram. Comes back all muddy, in awe of the natural wonders. A seagull squawks by                                                                                                                                                               Always late, looking like a whirl of colour, never wanting to leave.


So there it is, my poetic self portrait. I got some great feedback in class which is always uplifting as well as a little advice which I have acted on and edited the poem slightly. I would love to know what you think so feel free to leave me a comment.


A Poem about Poetry

A few weeks ago in my Creative Writing Strategies class we were asked to write a poem about poems. I thought that was such an awesome idea and I really had some fun with it so I thought I would share it on here. It’s a little bit different but let me know what you think.


The Rules of Poetry 

There once was a time
when I thought poems had to rhyme
Organised nice and neat
and always followed some beat

Now I know that’s BULLSHIT

No rules to control these words

Screenshot 2015-02-24 at 01.34.33


Poems can be whatever you want.

Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly.Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly. Give them wings so they can fly.

Poetry can be a comfort or a terrifying jolt.
It can be a warm embrace or the icy sting of loneliness.
It can tell wonderful lies or dangerous truths.
Build walls of protection or break down barriers of pain.
Can meop mean more than poem?
Flip it on it’s head it might make more sense.

Interpret, reread, understand, confusion, analysis, understand, get lost, out loud, to a friend, buy, lend, again and again, hid it away, keep it safe, copy for a lover, write, scribble, words, meaning, create, play, jumble, destroy.

Explaining this is hard
poems escape through fingers
like meaning
and thought.

Poems can be whatever you want.
Sure they can rhyme.
They can be sweet
they can even be “nice”.
But they don’t have to be.
Ignore the rule
they taught you at school.


I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I think poetry should be free and experimental and I tried to portray that in this poem. I am really getting into poetry and am excited about exploring it more in the future.