Fresh, once more

For some reason I feel like I should apologise, apologise for promising a lot of blog posts over the summer and not writing a single one. But then reality hits me and I remember that I’m not one of those ‘famous bloggers’, with millions of subscribers all over the world and in fact, I’m just a 20 year old who has too much to say and knows where to put a comma, I think?

So where have I been, you ask? Well, I’ve just been so busy, managing 4-day jobs, 1 evening job and caring for my newborn and I just haven’t really had the time to blog. I hope you can all forgive and forget.

If only I really did have an excuse like that… Lets go back to an evening back in August, where I bumped into an old school friend, Ewan, who before conversation had barely begun, told me off for not blogging enough. Blog? Blogging? What’s that? And then it clicked. I’d clearly been enjoying summer too much that I had completely forgotten I had a blog. So thanks Ewan, for not only sparing a few minutes to read my blog every now and then but also for giving me a kick up the arse and getting me back to the keyboard.

Although, I do feel I deserve a little bit of a pat on the back for something. This summer I have been working my absolute bum off with University work and I’m feeling very prepared to begin my final year when I return back to Lincoln. Yet on the other hand, I do not feel ready to go back at all. I mean, how do you prepare yourself for 7 nights of solid drinking after having a summer consisting mainly of nights on the sofa with a handful of cats? Unfortunately, no matter how many Barocca’s I could drink, Pizza’s I could polish off at the end of a night and how much I could pretend I’m on Geordie Shore, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to avoid the next mornings hangover… and the 6 after that. But where’s the fun in thinking of the morning after? This is the last fresher’s of my life, I’m living with my boyfriend and two of my best friends and you only bloody live once! YOBLO. So no excuses, I’m going to make sure I’m out 7/7 nights and am going to make sure it’s the best week of my life to date.

I read something the other day that went:

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of the world. If you have money in the bank, your wallet, and some spare change you are among the top 8% of the worlds wealthy. If you woke up this morning with more health than illness you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive this week. If you have never experience the danger of battle, the agony of imprisonment or torture, or the horrible pangs of starvation you are luckier than 500% million people alive and suffering. If you can read this message you are more fortunate than 3 billion people in the world who cannot read at all.

So whilst I sit here moaning about an upcoming hangover, praying for one more Pringle to appear in the bottom of the tube I realise just how lucky I really am, (Not just because I ate the whole tube and didn’t have to share.) This summer I’ve treasured every minute I can with my family and my very precious Bubble, I’ve made sure I’ve seen all 4 of my grandparents at least once a fortnight, I’ve got some of the best friends in the whole world, two of which I’ve got back after 4 years and some who I can’t wait to catch up with back at Uni. Lewis and me are as good as ever and I’m very grateful for his family who has made me feel so welcome. I’m healthy, I’m happy and for that, I’m very grateful. I’m going to go back to Uni and hopefully leave this year again with a 2:1, I’m going to dive into fresher’s like its my first one all over again and I’m not going to take anyone or anything for granted.

Look at me, rambling on again pretending to myself that there’s someone the other side of the screen absolutely engrossed. (If anyone is still reading, and remotely interested, top effort.) I promise my next post will be less deep, and more recent than in 4 months time.

I hope all of you have had a lovely summer, take care xxx

Our little secret, Sandbanks

“But this is no ordinary English sand dune. On it, and around it, lie stunning golden sands, clear turquoise ocean water, luxury yachts, vintage champagne spilling out of every well-heeled resident’s mouth, and houses that are currently going for an absurd £10million apiece.” That is Sandbanks, as Piers Morgan described on his documentary aired on ITV1, ‘Piers Morgan… on Sandbanks’.

I bet if you asked anyone what he or she thought of Sandbanks around 45 years ago there answer would be the complete opposite. So I did…

In the summer of 1971 my grandparents visited Sandbanks for the first time with their 3 children, my mum, aunty and uncle. My Granny said to me, “Back then Sandbanks was nothing like it is today. It was simple. It was just a cheap, easy, remote destination to spend two weeks on the beach with the children”. And since that summer they have returned at least once a year, every year, with their children, parents, brothers, sisters and grandchildren.

All 15 of us used to stay for two weeks in a small bungalow called Flintshore where it’s back garden led, and looked over, the beach and this is the place my grandparents stayed from 1971, and I did from 1993 until 2005. In 2005 this very modest bungalow, in need of modernastion, sold for nothing less than £3 million. Of course you don’t believe me, Here’s a reliable source to prove it. http://www.guardian.co.uk/money/2005/nov/02/property.uknews 

So what was it that turned this sleepy sand dune into “the fourth most expensive place to live on the planet?”*

In 2001, a canny local estate agent named Tom Doyle sold a 1,200 square foot flat on Sandbanks for an easy £1 million.* Consequently he realised that this deal made it the fourth most expensive square foot in the world, resulting in it being ranked on influential property listings. And there it was, the Sandbanks phenomenon was born and property prices soared higher than ever imagined.

Flintshore is now on the market for £10 million, but apparently the inside and outside pool, spa, gym and home cinema aren’t what you’re paying for. In an interview with Piers Morgan, Tom Doyle stated, when asked how he could possibly justify the price, “The view. Six million of that price is for the view”.

Piers continued his documentary by interviewing Harry Redknapp who brought his home in Sandbanks 40 years ago for £600,000. Apparently he gets people knocking on his door every month offering up to £15 million for his key located home, but he stated not even £20 million would tempt him. “Where else would I find a home like this, this is just paradise to me”

The clear common dominator here is money, I mean even a small Orange Juice in the Café was pushing a fiver. Don’t get me wrong, Sandbanks is easily my favourite place in the world, but the special place that used to be my families little secret is now an overly desired destination, and I don’t like it. Sandbanks is now known for its flash cars, heavy wallets and of course pompous residents. I mean who saw the most recent news report? Apparently residents are planning to boycott a newly built Tesco Express because they wanted an M&S. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2325510/Sandbanks-residents-outrage-plans-open-supermarket-exclusive-town.html#ixzz2YNPb0Sr2

To me Sandbanks never has been about the money or fame. When I was in High School my friends used to be so surprised that every year my family didn’t leave England to go on Holiday but I didn’t care. It’s somewhere I’ve spent my summers, growing up with my family. From skinny dippy in the sea at the age of 4 with my cousins, to drunk walk backs from the pub with my granddad, uncle and dad when I’m 20. I’ve been every year of my life and every single year I leave I cry, just incase it could be the last.

Let’s just hope the heavy wallets don’t sink this island.

 
sandbanks

http://www.sandbankspoole.com/ http://www.primelocation.com/homes-news/has-sandbanks-gone-bust/

There’s a first time for everything

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To say I know what I’m doing would be wrong. I feel like i’ve just walked into a party where everyone is already friends and I know no one. As easy as it would be to stand in the corner, with a drink and a nervous smile, that’s too easy. I want to be noticed, but for the right reasons. I want my posts to interest and inspire you, whilst gaining followers that do the same to me.
 I’m Zoe Cole, and I’m 19 years old. I was born in the city of Norwich but that’s about the closest I get to being a ‘city girl’. My family are farmers, my house is a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and I’d rather lose a finger than be a vegetarian. I have a very close knit family, my immediate consisting of my beautiful, physiotherapist of a mum, commonly known as a bit of a milf. My father, a grumpy old man, who seems to only be happy once a year (once the harvest’s done).. But deep down he’s the best, and I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. My sister is 17, and as I’m sure many teenage sisters are, we’re best friends one day and enemies the next. My younger brother has just discovered the xbox and masturbation, so I don’t see him much..
I went to Pulham Primary School where I learnt the words to ‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’, at Archbishop Sancroft High School I learnt to avoid teenage boys and began to notice my passion for art and design. Onwards from here I went to Bungay Sixth Form where I discovered alcohol, high heels and the talent I have for textile, and the attraction I had with fashion. Since then I have been studying Fashion studies at the University of Lincoln and am absolutely loving it.
My blog will be a place where I come to when I feel inspired and need a rant. A place where I can share my opinions and my special memories. But mainly a place where I can use big words from the dictionary and pretend I know what I’m doing.
Take care x