I forgot I had a blog until just now when I went on Ancestry.com because Twitter told me to to find out the etymology of my last name then remembered I already knew it and it was the link for my blog

Fast forward 3 years.

It is now the year 2016. My mum had cancer, again. I moved to London, I moved back from London. I fell in love, I'm still in love. I had depression, got fired, got a new job, and made myself better, eventually. I saw most of South East Asia. Prince, Alan Rickman, Pete Burns and Gene Wilder died. Britain decided to leave the EU (we've still not got there, not that postponing the inevitable is helping exactly.) Tomorrow either a misogynistic bozo or a deceitful, unpopular lesser of two evils will be elected president of the USA.

A lot has happened since I posted last. Some of it was okay, some good, some decidedly shit. But it's all behind us now, and (head's up blogger bio) I'm pursuing my dream of becoming a conservator. Sure I live in Lincoln, have less than £15 left of my massive overdraft and no job in spite of almost 30 applications, but I'm getting there.

I listened to a Nerdette podcast - the Caitlin Moran one - when I was in Guangzhou airport in August and her advice was to do something every day that got you closer to your dream. Her's was something odd about wearing velvet and schmoozing with Oscar Wilde (fair, I like velvet, and I like 19th century Aestheticism); but mine, blissfully, involved less hobnobbing with dead folks and more cleaning stuff, dissolving bad guys (glue, dirt, corrosion) and making my own cotton buds.

Something is still missing though. I mean I'm with the man of my dreams, I'm doing the course existent in my reveries and we have our own place. It's difficult to rejoice when you have no money and no discernible sign of funds any time soon so it's definitely the job thing dragging us down, but persistence is key I suppose.

Fingers crossed persistence pays off soon. Or I'll be quitting my course.

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