When asked about my favourite season, I wouldn’t say summer, even though I adore the lazy nights of July when the sun never sets and shoes are no longer a necessity. I wouldn’t say autumn either, even though I love the feeling of burying my face in the biggest scarf from this season’s new collection and how the colours change from green to auburn. I also wouldn’t say winter, even though it makes me indescribably happy when snow starts to fall from the clouds like dizzy ballerinas and the Christmas lights are being lit all over the world. No, I will always say spring, because of the soft light that’s reserved for April only, that gently knocks on your window and reminds you that it’s never too late for new beginnings.



Uni has taught me a lot of things


About being who you are, and about accepting others. About love and trust and how to cook the perfect bowl of noodles. I’ve learnt that not everything is as it seems at first, but that’s okay, because the unexpected can turn out just fine. That there’s nothing wrong with making mistakes as long as you apologise and try again, and that people generally want you to be happy because everyone else is also just trying to get by with what they’re given. It has shown me that friendship, love and working together are important factors to success. That even though hot chocolate can’t mend a broken heart or un-shrink a woollen jumper which you happened to wash at 60 degrees, the people that make said chocolate for you can. And these people are what’s important. That’s what uni’s taught me. Oh yeah, and a bit of creative writing on the side.


They told us to dress up…


… so we did. Imagine 300 third graders running around school in random costumes. One girl introduced herself as a lamp shade, another said she was rock ‘n’ roll. Someone had dressed up as the Yggdrassil-tree from norse mythology and one had just decided to go full out emo that day. None of the teachers could keep a straight face while looking out at the crowd of colourful and strange students, and you could just see in their eyes that they were so ready for this day to be over. It was fun though, 10/10 would recomend.




17th of May 2015. We celebrated like only 19 year olds with nothing left to loose can. This day marked the end of our month-long celebration, a month of bad decisions and good memories. In the wee hours of the morning we ended up on my sofa, exhausted from the lack of sleep, but all smiles and laughter, running on determination, alcohol and scrambled eggs. Waving our red, white and blue flags and donning “graduates’ uniforms”, ready to take over the world. And take over the world we would. We just needed some sleep first.


Toilet Arias and Bacardi Breezers


If you invite a group of music students to your house in the middle of the night, blast Silver Flute from the speakers and serve them Bacardi Breezers, you really can’t be surprised when they start singing Mozart arias on the toilet. You also really shouldn’t be puzzled when said opera enthusiasm spreads out to the rest of the group and you suddenly have 9 teenagers in your living room belting out the Queen of the Night’s high notes. That’s just how it is.


A life in boxes


Twelve years worth of birthday songs and Christmas music. 144 months of pencil cases and notebooks and packed lunches and homework. 626 weeks of early morning breakfasts and late night suppers. 4380 days of perfectly brewed cups of tea and getting used to the taste of coffee. 105120 hours of dirty shoes in the hallway and arguments about who’s time it is to empty the dishwasher. Fourteen years of building a home. Funny how all of that can fit into these small boxes.


After the big night


We’d been waiting for this last prom for thirteen years, and when it finally arrived we were prepared. Glittery eye shadow and pretty dresses met amateur DJs and cheap champagne. We danced away worries about marks and exams and teachers’ loud voices. We sang away homework and tests and bad cafeteria food. Our steps spelled out no more school buses and late night panic-driven revision. It was the night of nights, and as I got home and hung up my dress, curls almost gone and feet hurting from a night on high heels, I laughed as I thought to myself; This may be the happiest I’ve ever been.