“I feel like a baby bird that’s just been pushed of the cliff into a swarm of angry seagulls” – anon

So today marks one week since I graduated from Uni. And, surprisingly, I’ve actually achieved more in the last week than I managed the entire month I had previously been at home for.

In the last week both Will and I have secured full-timer jobs in Harrogate, by some miraculous post-graduation luck. Which means in the coming weeks we will be thinking about moving to Harrogate.

My position is at The Majestic Hotel, which is essentially Harrogate’s answer to The Grand Budapest Hotel. It’s absolutely huge, the kitchen is about four times the size of my house.

However despite all the excitement over the size of the hotel an it’s relevance to Wes Anderson’s candy floss hotel, I must admit I am a bit apprehensive. I had hoped post-graduation would see the end of my years as a waitress, however the last few weeks have been a struggle. I tend to struggle with having so much free time. Most people seem able to organise their free time into neat little drawers each labelled with hobbies, projects, career building etc I find free time seems to drain me. I become moping , bores and filled to the brim with self-pity. I nee something to keep me busy, for my own sake.

And that is what I hope to get out of the next few weeks at The Majestic Hotel. Something which will force me to galvanize myself, find my feet so I can take the nest few step, or fall through the gulls.

“I think Mum’s going to have an anuerism, the wheel arch just fell off the trailer.” -Jonny Tanner

It’s 11am, Keighley, West Yorkshire, drizzling. I’m stood trembling on the doorstep of my Mum and Dad’s house watching them slide of the driveway headlong into the latest episode of their Swiss Family Robinson meets Fawlty Towers adventure.

At this point I’m not entirely sure whether I’m trembling due to the drizzle, the anticipation of some space or the fact that there is a botched up dinghy boat shackled to the back of the car.

Within an hour of their departure I’ve already received intel suggesting Dad’s pride and joy, the Haxby Lass, may be in heat.

The saga continues…