bookshoplaura

I have always been a big kid around Christmas. Obviously at one stage I was an actual child but while I have physically grown up, there is still part of me that gets a bit fizzy with excitement at this time of year. I like the music and the presents and the buying for other people. In fact I often reach a stage where I have bought for everyone (which can be pretty early in as we do Kriskindle so I only have to buy a big present for my sister and not a whole lot else) and I start inventing people to buy for just to keep shopping. I love how we have the whole family together and my niece still believes in Santa which helps keep some of the magic alive in my parents house. Admittedly Im less enthused about the crowds and the frenzied air that Christmas brings.  Now as Im sure anyone who follows my blog is probably well aware of the fact that I haven't really had a proper chance to celebrate Christmas the last two years. Social care is an area I have always wanted to work in and wh

I guess in terms of redefining bravery, most people would not list going on a holiday alone but for me it was actually a really big deal. It was more than the sum of its parts. Me packing half my worldly belongings into car and driving into the unknown (okay relatively unknown given that I was going to Wicklow and not Timbuktu). For me it was about reclaiming parts of myself that I felt had been lost down through the years. I think on some level I felt it was something I would manage badly. Like I would stick out as a lone woman traveler and my own social ineptitude would somehow render me incapable of travelling solo. If life has taught me nothing else it is that I am capable of so much more than I would have previously given myself credit for. Also I have come to accept over time that I actively enjoy my own company and its okay to embrace that provided I don't find myself moving into a cabin up a hill with a recently purchased pet goat (I am just not a cat person). With all

After much planning, fundraising and panicking about fundraising, the day for The Great Night Hike had arrived and I was both excited and hopelessly disorganized.  Despite all this I soon found myself on the road to Wicklow with many layers,  snacks and deep mistrust in Google maps.  I did arrive in Wicklow with time to spare after taking a slightly more circuitous and scenic route than planned. As I drove through the Wicklow way I was overwhelmed by how beautiful it was there and wondered why no one had pushed me to make the trip before or perhaps they had and I just wasn't listening. Mostly what I was feeling was excitement about the upcoming hike and even more do the few days I will be spending exploring Glendalough. I stopped to eat a mini picnic right where there was a stunning view of the Wicklow way and I felt like a woman on an adventure . There is something wonderfully freeing about getting into your car alone and taking off. After my Pit stop I returned to

I am sure if you are following me   on any form of social media you won't have missed me rabbiting on about an upcoming hike Im going on. I haven't been posting about it non stop out of a pressing desire to let everyone know how active I am because if that was the reason all my previous hikes would have garnered similar social media coverage. This however is not an ordinary hike. So the hike this coming Saturday is in Glendalough but that's not what makes it different. It will finish in the dark which I'm sure will be magical but that's not why I'm telling everyone about it. It's a hike for charity,  in aid of the Irish Heart Foundation. They have organised the guides, sent out the fundraising packs and ensured that everyone attending the event has paid their €30 to register. Then it's up to all of us taking part to fundraise at least €120 for the charity. Which is fair because obviously they organise events like this in order to raise some much need

Do you ever have one of those conversations in which you confess to something totally normal for you and the other person looks at you like you're completely bonkers? This is a reasonably common occurrence for me. I was recently talking to someone about how I occasionally chose an online or self service option if I don't feel up to interacting with someone and I was left wondering if they didn't get it because they are not an introvert or maybe it's just a me thing and I'm a weirdo. I have something I like to refer to as my social battery. It is not a physical thing that I carry around but more a feeling that I have only so much social interaction in me per week and some days I am able for more interaction and others I go far out out of my way to minimize it. For me recharging can involve; time alone to think, reading, watching bad shows, napping or long walks. Without this quality time spent by myself I am especially grouchy and unfriendly and I find it

I like to say I am fairly new to hiking  but to say that overlooks the fact that I spent much of my childhood being cajoled up mountains around Tipperary. It is only in the last year that I have rediscovered this pursuit and finally realized why my parents were so eager to ensure we got out into the great outdoors. I do enjoy being fit and I find Crossfit helps me nicely in my pursuit of better physical health. I also make an effort to get out for walks, weather allowing, as often as I can, even when I am not really in the mood because fresh air always makes me feel a bit better. I find my renewed interest in hill walking came about when I dared to try it ( a scary proposition at the time as it combined the equally daunting strangers and mountains) and realised I got something I wasn't getting elsewhere in life from the experience. The fresh air, scenery and the way it cleared my head entirely left me feeling recharged and so regatta boots were bought an interest was sparked.

I've not been having the greatest of weeks. I am not sure if there is any particular reason for this but my mood has been low and I can feel it hanging over me like a cloud threatening to spill rain.  Over the last year or so I have been working that bit harder to look after myself and to give me what I need. I decided some time ago that I needed to be the someone who makes me happy because leaving that up to someone else hasn't exactly turned out to be a fool proof method. I started writing this blog post about two weeks ago but I was really struggling to form a coherent post expressing myself clearly and so I shelved it but now as I go into my second last night shift of the fortnight, the overall message seems more poignant somehow. For me one of the main elements of making myself happy is building self care into my week. I am the person best equipped to meet my needs at any given time and I try to keep this in mind on a daily basis. Sometimes this means giving mysel

I have a tendency to be a little to introspective for my own good. I spend far more time than is reasonable inside my own head unpicking social encounters, normally in an effort to criticize myself for not handling human interaction better or to make sure I am spending sufficient time cringing at whatever awkward thing I did or said. How long is long enough to berate yourself for awkwardness because I can recall things going back years when required. The other thing I do an awful lot of is examine my own behavior and motivations and try to unravel what shaped them or where exactly they originated. So far I am not really making much decent progress but doesn't seem to discourage me in any way shape or form. This is the kind of stuff that springs to mind each time I have a guy ask how someone who looks like can be single, as though the simple fact that they find me attractive means that someone should have made me their girlfriend by now whether I like it or not. The truth of

I have had this funny sort of feeling since I moved to Kilkenny and started my new life of singledom that I am sorting of coasting. Only planning on a temporary basis and not making any major footholds in my life. I was recently talking to my sister about how I was feeling somewhat as though I am not really tethered to anything in life. She is much wiser than me and pointed out that I have made major strides in career and Crossfit training in the last year as well as becoming more comfortable in my own company.  While these points are valid, the feeling still persists. I have no real five year plan. I fall upon a free weekend and usually end up doing what I feel like on the day weather depending but no real plans are in place and everything feels a little bit unstructured. So It's not like my life is a raging disaster but I do have this lingering feeling that I could be doing something more. This is when my sister suggested I put together a list of things that I feel I need o

I am a verified disaster. This is a fact, an absolute. I am starting to believe that my sole purpose in the realm of dating is to drum up hilarious anecdotes for the benefit of friends who are happily settled down and perhaps coffee really is my one true love. So I had been on a dating site and happily strung more than one blog post out of my encounters there which have been more about the contact I have had than actual dates. That website however has grown stale, no promising dates have emerged. All the perverts have already sent me their dick pics and it feels like nothing more will come from it. Anyway this blog post is not a sob story about how Im not getting mail on a dating site because that would be very dull indeed. I recently joined a new dating site. Normally when you do this you see the same faces cropping up again and sometimes very silly men forget they have spoken to you somewhere else and try and message you there as though you've never spoken. This site I think

I don't intend for the title of this post to be misleading but just incase anyone picked it up wrong, this is not a post about the difficulty of having larger boobs (honestly mine are not that large) although all the same I would not recommend running downstairs or shaking a bottle without a bra on (things get pretty jiggly). Plus they do prohibit me from wearing many designs of vest without looking like busty wench is the look I was going for. Anyway as I was saying, this is not the subject of this particular blog post. In fact what I mean by this title is that the problem is big and not that my boobs are. The problem that I am referring to here is the obsession that men have with all things boobs and cleavage. Obviously not all men share this fixation, some are ass men and some just keep it to their damn selves (and well done to them for managing this simple feat).  Now in many universes, I, a lady possessing boobs and they, men with boob fixations could probably peacefully

For a place that was my home for such a long time, Waterford has a strange feel to it. I don't know if I ever really adopted it as a new place I lived or did I just treat it like the various places I rented in my time there, a temporary living space, no point in buying anything too fancy because I wont be there that long. Its coming up to a year now since I left which also means a year since the break up and I can conclusively say this summer is going better than last even if there are still some feelings attached to both anniversaries.  For some reason, in the time I have been gone, I have developed a weird aversion to the city. Really I should still have some positive feelings lingering there and coming back should allow me to revisit my favourite haunts and yet I have mostly felt a strong desire to stay away.  Initially part of it was about avoiding my ex, the break up in its earlier stages was a lot easier when I mostly pretended he didn't exist. Then we had that br