While it lasted.

Sitting on the balcony, in the darkness, looking up at the lit up main road, and I can't help but smile. My family are all a metre behind me inside the villa drinking various caffeinated beverages, eating sugary food and on a total alcohol-infused comedown. The week is coming to an end. We fly home to less-than-sunny Newcastle tomorrow. I'm kind of excited as well as disappointed. I'm loving the sun. My tan is coming along rather well. Although, I'm homesick. I miss my boyfriend, my puppy and my own comfy bed. I miss waking up without insect bites and sunburn. I miss being able to walk to the shop without having to layer myself in Factor 15 and armed with sunglasses and a huge hat. Apart from that, my first visit to Menorca has been kinda lovely. I'm tipsy on lager and cider, and really hot air. This time tomorrow, I'll be tucked up in my own, cold bed with nice freezing pillows and the ability to sleep soundly. Back to wearing my parka and jeans. I knew there was a reason summer didn't last forever.

Hectic holidays.

So, it's Friday morning. My mind is working in a stressy overdrive mode. And I'm neglecting any form of writing whatsoever lately. Wrapped up in too much sleep, the rubbish british summer, and my lovely boyfriend, writing has just been pushed back underneath everything. Oh, and to tell the truth, I'm a bit uninspired. I'm stuck with regards to writing. And now, holiday planning is running wild. Me and seven others, my family, are jetting off to menorca on Saturday afternoon, (yes, as in tomorrow afternoon.) Note these things:

1. We aren't packed.

2. We have no holiday money

3. The holiday docs for our details are somewhat vague. 

That's a stressy start. I have a lot to do, and no time at all to do it in. My alarm is set for 7.30am, and I've got a list in my 'Notes' of things I must achieve tomorrow. All of which, I intend to have finished by early afternoon, for then, I have something vital to do. Oh yes, SOPPY ALERT...I'm off to see my boyfriend before we part for a week. Oh, and I'm telling myself I won't get all emotional and cry. (WHO AM I KIDDING?) 

Take a breath, Eleanor, god. Holidays aren't supposed to be THIS stressful. Jeeeeeez. 

July daze.

So, it's here. Today. The seventh month of 2014. That sounds strange. Gosh. (I never, ever say that, but it seems fitting today.) I'm speechless. Sitting on my bed, in sweats, (yeah, I do that now) and no make up and freshly painted nails of which I've been trying to establish the real colour for about a week now (we've settled on 'heather.') I have my iPod attempting to play a soundtrack that seems fitting for July, but I keep my forefinger stubbornly paused on the 'Shuffle' button. I'm restless today.

I feel like I haven't had enough sleep. I feel dissatisfied with July already in one respect, and in another, I'm totally, utterly and completely happy with everything. No sun = poor excuse for summer, well, in my eyes anyway. I have Coldplay strumming right now. Maybe it fits, there are clouds hanging heavily in the sky outside my window, after all. I feel like I should write something profound and substantial. Pinch-Punch and all that jazz. Here goes. Here's to trying.

#1: Today, I read Gracie's latest and probably, the most important blog post. A fabulous girl I write about frequently, and yet, I've never so much as clapped eyes on her in person. (This year, we'll share a coffee, in person. At some point, I've vowed.) I let my coffee go cold as my eyes adjusted to what was appearing rapidly on my iPhone screen. My mouth fell open. My eyelids gathered salty tears. My heart seemed to stop a moment. Not only is this a very beautiful piece of writing from a lovely girl with a huge personality, but I can only even try to comprehend how hard it must have been to write. For reasons, that if you give it a read, you'll know. Hell, of course you'll read it. She's wonderful. Gracie is someone I feel like I've known for years, and in reality, it is merely due to reading her blog intently in a pseudo-stalker-like fashion (oh, and a few avidly typed tweets: Come say hello!@eleanorward_) Anyway, she's been through an awful lot lately, and deserves acknowledgement, and a very strong Jack and Coke. That's my first 'July' thing. I'm sending her lots of love, because I have a lot to thank her for, and she's one of my favourite people.

#2: July sparks something for me I've never been able to say before. Exciting! As of a few days time, me and my boyfriend will have been together for six months. Half a year. To some, that's probably not a big deal. To me, well, it really is. I hope he won't mind me saying all this, well actually, I know he won't. It's pretty surreal to think it's been almost six whole months. It's a blur. A happy blur at that. We've known each other a lot longer than that though. It's a funny story. Well, maybe it is, but that's for my own memory. We were friends for a long time, and have known each other for around 15 months now. I won't throw all the soppy clichés your way, except maybe this one: not only is he my other half, but he's also my best friend. That's all I'm saying. He's incredibly important to me, and how anyone copes with me for a week, let alone six months is beyond my comprehension, but I'll not complain! Stop grinning Lukas, this isn't for your ego.

#3: July is the limbo for me, between holidays (Ibiza and Menorca) and just some of the space that makes up the journey between Year Two and Final Year in degree lingo. This year, my final desperate shot to prove to myself, and everyone around me that my degree has been anything but a waste of time and money. I need to prove myself. I need to "write something substantial." I need to do something that scares me but maybe will open up an array of opportunities for me, and ultimately, I need to decide on what I'd maybe like to do in that scary thing called Future.

July is full of indefinite possibilities, opportunities and events. It's getting warmer. It's getting closer to Decision Time with regards to my degree. It's closer to my 21st Birthday, which I'm really excited about, but also kind of apprehensive. 21 means responsibility; and not just being able to cross the road on your own, or standing on your own two feet. July features my mam's birthday, the anniversary of my Grandad's death, and the cram of planning and organising for a family holiday that has filled all eight of us with a sense of dread and excitement at the same time. Also, here's a random fact: July was named after Julius Caesar, as it was his birth month. I'm positive, I'm excited, and I'm ready to go. Metaphorically speaking, that is. In reality, I'm lazily perched on my bed, still, checking my phone compulsively and eagerly awaiting my latest purchases from my beloved ASOS. Russell is making his way to my house, to deliver what I hope will be the most beautiful handbag I've feasted my eyes on. Only time will tell.

"If anyone's worth letting your coffee go cold for, it's definitely you."

Making Ties.

making ties and breaking ties.

It's 10:04, it's Friday, it's 30th May (YES, WHAT? Where did May go?) and I'm screwed in every kinda sense. As I lie on my bed, seemingly the only neutral safe-house in my colossally-messy room. It's like a bomb hit twenty years ago, and the inhabitants just didn't clean up, ever. Holiday clothes are thrown around my four walls with reckless abandon, as if in a desperate attempt of artistic license, rather than the reality; that I'm being a slob.

So, where's my destination? The White Isle, of course. Cue the horrendous attempts to sing along to Vengaboys with alcoholic beverages in our clutches. Ibiza. Take two. It's funny. Last year was my first 'proper' girls holiday, and it's really weird to look back and realise the changes that have occurred. I've never really noticed, but, as I look back, a mere maybe 10 months, the changes appear crystal. My wide-eyed look comes to notice that said changes have crawled sneakily out of the woodwork of my life, and nestled themselves comfortably beside me.

This time last year, I probably could count my ties on one hand. As I was planning a holiday, everything went chaotic, and the strain was too much for some friendships to handle. While some ties were severed, others were made and celebrated. In that sense, I mean, the people I was really close to. The special people in my life. The ones I'd hold onto, not with entwined fingers, but clutched fists. The people I'd walk over broken glass for, run into a burning building to save, ultimately, the ones I was unprepared, and unwilling, to live without. Ten-(ish) months later, my ties are cemented in a truly different pattern. My friends are a different group of people. My close group of friends has expanded, and been truly tested through some bad times, as well as good. My ties seem to be barb-wired, rather than haphazardly flung together with frayed pieces of string.

I also have a really special tie. If it were a real, physical tie, in a suit-and-jacket-kinda-garment, it would be the brightest ever. The jazzy, jokey one. With some crazy pattern all over it, but not verging on garish. It would be the one you'd want to wear all the time, but it was expensive, so you sometimes think it should be kept in a fancy box in which it came. It's silk. It's gorgeous. It's the best fucking tie you've ever owned, and as you run the material through your fingers, the texture excites you in a way that nothing ever has before. It withstands all weathers, it doesn't fray or break. It's a constant. A feature you always want to show off. A tie everyone likes. And moreover, you love it. You love this tie more than anything. You trust this tie. With your life. Your family. Your hopes and dreams. Your tie knows more about you than you know about yourself. Your tie is wrapped in gold and you wear it around your neck with pride. With absolutely everything. Even if it doesn't go with that dress, obviously. It's sewn together with passion you can't even comprehend. But y'know the best thing about this tie? It's all yours.

For Gracie.

To the one person who told me to document my holiday antics until I returned to still-quite-sunny Newcastle, to update her, so here you go Gracie. I told you I'd do it. Some may be slightly beating around the bush, for dignity's purpose.

Tuesday 9th July 2013: San Antonio Bay, Ibiza.

As I sit surrounded by young people and one or two families, not satisfied with the way I look in the bikini I'm wearing, the sun blaring down on the stony ground by the pool, I realise how perfect this is. There's the usual lot. The girls who are ready to have the time of their lives, tanning straight away and spend their days giggling away and admiring the lads, and the lads who perhaps fancy themselves a bit too much, tattoos in show and have a bottle of whiskey with breakfast. I have Taylor Swift playing on my iPod and it's so hot, my hair has done that *woo hoo* thing that Phoebe says. A picturesque backdrop of woodland and sand, our hotel is situated literally a minute's walk away from the sandy coastline of San Antonio Bay. Bikinis, sunglasses and pints are out in full-force. All Inclusive alcohol has just kicked off at half ten and we're already drinking what is fondly known in Geordieland as Trebles. A mad week ahead I think. I miss by blog but my notebook and phone will suffice. Cue the cameras and fasten your seatbelts, you're about to have the best week of your lives.

One week and counting.

Just a little thing to say, I'm very excited. I jet off to the white island of Ibiza exactly one week today, and I'm totally thrilled. Myself, along with my two best friends in the entire world, Betty and Steph, are looking forward to a week of civilized (ha! who are we kidding?) partying and being able to enjoy that big round thing in the sky more often than we do in the somewhat-dull North East of England. I feel like I've been waiting for this holiday for months, so now it's finally in reach, or so it seems. Excitement, anticipation and alcohol fill the air. An all inclusive holiday may be just what we need to escape gloomy little England, even if it is just for a seven day period, (maybe that's all we'll need!)

Anyway. Just a little hello, even if there's no one reading this, it's not as if it's particularly groundbreaking. I've literally just whacked this out amidst creating an 'IBIZA 2013' playlist on iTunes, sorting through my mountain of holiday clothes, drinking coffee (as yes, I always am) and deciding which books to put on my Kindle for the essential holiday reading list. It's been a busy day to say the least. I think my bank account may be crying a bit, or at least shedding a few bitter tears at the amount I've spent these last few days. I'm making lists of Things To Do and Remember like there's no tomorrow, when in fact we've got a week to go, so I shouldn't be acting all panicked and OCD, but seems a shame to change the habit of a lifetime.

So, I'm curious. Where's everyone jetting off to this summer? Please, comment below, or tweet me and let me know: @eleanorward_. Wherever it is, I hope you all have a fabulous time and come back with great tans like I'm hoping to, as well as hundreds and hundreds of holiday snaps. Some may even reach it to here, but we'll see if they're suitable. 

The countdown has begun.
Ready and waiting.

Dedication #2: Steph.

Right, I've been meaning to do another dedication for weeks, and never got round to it. I really probably should have a million and one other things to do right now, like revision for my last exam on Monday, but that will have to be done at a more motivated time. For now, my dedication is as follows. I hope she reads this, considering we've just been talking about my blogging habits over piping hot Starbucks.

Stephanie, or more so, Steph. One of my best friends. One of the craziest, funniest people I've had the pleasure of getting to know over the last few years. It's one of those weird situations. We went to school together for years, and always spoke, but it was like, as soon as we got into Sixth Form, we immediately clicked. I found myself thinking 'how the hell have I not been friends with this girl before now?' It's hard to explain. So, if a picture speaks a thousand words, here's a summary:

It's like there are no words to describe how much this girl means to me. She's painfully hilarious (we laugh for hours on end!) about anything and everything. There's nothing I can't tell her, and I like to think that the feeling is mutual. We've been through a lot together, from two years of mind-numbingly difficult A-levels, including our very weird Pyschology lessons, to receiving our exam results and finding out we both were destined for the same place. I know what you're thinking, stardom, obviously? Perhaps one day, rather the same Uni. Northumbria, to specify. Perhaps the lesser known of the two universities in our home town in Newcastle, but certainly that does not mean it's in any way less eventful, in fact, I think we certainly show everyone how to enjoy themselves.

I've had the funniest time lately, since starting uni. I trust Steph with my life, and I know I can say anything and everything to her, and she can do the same to me, (and has on a few very necessary occasions!) She's definitely what you'd call my drinking partner, and I'm always telling people exactly that. We get drunk together, we shop together and we never ever stop talking. In the past six months or so, we've been to pub crawls, countless parties (including a fancy dress foam party, pictured above) celebrated birthdays, holidays, exams, results, or just partied because it was Friday night. She's the kind of person I can talk with for hours on end, and we never ever run out of things to say. But even if we did, what would it matter? The one I immediately look for, ring or text when a particular favourite song comes on, when I spot a certain someone in a crowd of people, or just when I have some seriously juicy gossip to share. She's amazing, and I don't tell her enough how much I love her. She's been with me through a lot, and I know I can count on her. The girl who I know can ring me up for a quick chat or a three hour update on the latest things happening in our lives. She knows everything, and I trust her with every word I say.

                                                             "Trebles anyone?!"
                                                       

Also, I must say, at times she must have the patience of a saint. As anyone who knows me well, knows I have a tendency to get drunk and make a fool of myself, well, although this is fine, Steph's the one always there, to make sure I don't ring the one person I shouldn't, waste all my money on sambuca and get me home in one piece. I thank her for that often, because everyone knows it's necessary from time to time. The girl who honestly doesn't believe in herself enough, and she seriously should. She's amazing and lovely, and it's about time she realised the extent of it. I'd be lost without her, so much so, we're jetting off to Ibiza in the summer together, for a fabulous time, I'm sure. Steph's also kind of a genius. She'll laugh when she reads this, because she's quite modest, and god knows why, because there's no need to be sometimes! Pursuing a degree in Human Biosciences (yes, oh my god) genius. Not only is she studying something scientific, she's also pretty damn good at it, and that's not what many people can say.

So, Steph, if you're reading this, then I hope you're smiling. You're fab. I wouldn't change you, and you're not losing me any time in the near (or far) future, just to instruct you of such. (I know you'll probably be laughing!) There's so much more I'd say, but it all depends who's reading this. Steph will understand the references more than most. We're very alike. In more ways than one. She copes with my drunken antics, and I'd do the same for her. And she, somewhat astonishingly, hasn't slapped me, when my increasingly foul mouth runs away with itself. Dilemma hour seems to be a regular thing between us, and I'm so looking forward to spending the summer with her (and others) and having what will, hopefully, be the time of our lives.

Because let's be honest, we always do.