Who am I?

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Some of the finest minds this world has ever known have deliberated their existence for eons and never settled on a satisfactory conclusion. My brain could ponder for just as long and never master the art of knowing who I am, so instead I am going to lead with who I want to be. If the world reeked of perfection I’d be juggling between script commissions, a best selling novel and a stack of magazine cut outs. At the moment I’d contentedly clutch at one of the three.

Day 48.

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Once upon a time in the City of Angels there lived a man and a woman who were to be married. At the same time lived a writer in London whose words would assist them in twisting the key to the so called ball and chain. I don’t usually find commissions in editing a groom’s vows and wedding day message, but it does prompt a smile to do so. And that’s one step into LA. #100happydays #day48

Day 47.

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Sunshine filled days should come with a prerequisite that they entail food by the river and blabberings with girlfriends. Girls make the most exquisite of friends, as long as you wheedle out the good ones. The French know how to seduce one into thoughts of licking the plate. I always knew I was lunching lady material. #100happydays #day47

Day 46.

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That little ray of sunshine shimmering across my iPad is entirely indicative of the slice of summertime we have just booked. Isn’t it oh such a bore and a chore when your relatives live on foreign soil and you simply must go and visit them? Hooray for holidays. #100happydays #day46

Day 45.

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The first time I stepped on a film set it oozed with the allure I had always envisaged it would. Fifteen hours in, all but dead on my feet, I could still summon a smile. My head takes up residence in la la land for much of the time, it’s itching for the writer’s seat on set, so why not bring a little of the magic into our living room? #100happydays #day45

Day 44.

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I set my heart on building a library in my home when I began planning my dream abode in a sketch book at my Aunt and Uncle’s house one summer when I was eight. The plans were over ambitious and immensely excessive, not one room measured under ten metres, but in my driven, one might say naive, mind they were completely obtainable. I don’t have the library, yet. But upon discovery of this curtain I am certainly closer than I have ever been before. #100happydays #day44

Day 43.

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Nothing inspires a mind of more merrymaking on a Friday than the mere fact it is a Friday, the furthest point one can be from having to deal with the perils of the working week once again (mine has proved particularly perilous). This rubber duck also makes me merry. Along with the bubble bath he comes wading along in. Yes he’s pink and he’s a boy. #100happydays #day43

Day 42.

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Cat socks. Beaming in luminous pink and purple. Just because my wardrobe is often muted in colour, does not mean my feet aren’t euphorically dancing in their shoes amidst rainbows. If I had a cat I would call him McQueen. Or Mr Whiskerson. Both sound rather grand. And they’d suit a squishy faced Persian. #100happydays #day42

Day 41.

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Our walls are adorned with little pieces of the soul. David Bowie, Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul sit above the boy’s guitars, because they belong in the cool corner of our abode. That Bowie exhibition at the V&A was insane. Only Jesse Pinkman could pull off psychotic skull chic in a suit and aviators. I still have post Breaking Bad depression. #100happydays #day41

Day 40.

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Finally finding some reading time for the most legendary of all the film magazines, Little White Lies. I came across this little bible a few years ago and have found a home for every issue on my bookshelf ever since. We share a common loathing for Michael Bay. When I discovered this I knew we would share an eternal magazine/reader bond. #100happydays #day40