After a hectic ten weeks, venturing across York, Dublin, London and home whilst meeting deadlines and reading into the early hours of the morning, I have well and truly found myself in the midst of my second year. As the half-way mark passed in my degree this term, I felt a lingering weight press onto my shoulders, reminding me that my time here is crippling away whilst I'm trying so fervently to hold onto it. But in news present; I've got myself a new job alongside my studies, I've found a spot in York that serves fresh mint tea (leaps in exultation) and attempted to learn Anglo-Saxon. Lufe mec on neorxnewang!
My Christmas treat to Dublin, a city thriving on its heritage and fluently melodic accents that I could listen to over and over again was an enthralling adventure. I soon learned that the Irish solution to any problem was to go to the pub, of which I had 751 to choose from, and to sip on a pint of Guinness because it's "healthy". To my dismay, Guinness was not for me as it is (as it says) very, very, bitter. However! Fear not! I was introduced most recently to the "Baby Guinness," a concoction that deserves no explanation, other than for the reader to feast on the Irish delicacy for themselves. 
I'm currently in the midst of relaxing at home, devising my summer plans for Budapest and Barcelona and eating far too much cake. I'm postponing revision for a few days more, enjoying the state of limbo I tend to find myself in after an exhausting term. I'm desperately catching up on life outside the university bubble and spending far too much on denim heels and accessories from Zara. Oh! And I got Ombrè hair! And then it's off to London next week for my birthday eep! Salutations 20!


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