When you touch my hand and talk sweet talk I got a knockin' in my knees and a wobble in my walk.

Floral print Lizzy dress (worn as top): c/o Motel Rocks. Denim shorts: Fat Face. Denim Jacket: £63, NW3 by Hobbs. Coral belt: c/o Clothing at Tesco. Heart-shaped sunglasses: £2 h+m kids. Skull bracelet: £11, Made via ebay. Black ballet pumps: 50p, Russell and Bromley via ebay.

I wore this outfit the other day, when pushing my hair behind my ears and getting stuck into InDesign, putting together pages for the University of Liverpool's magazine, Ellipsis - such a glamorous lifestyle! To escape the confines of my room, I went for a little walk across the fields near where I live, with my good friends John, Paul, George and Ringo. Maybe I've spent too long away from reality - I'm wearing double denim! I never thought I'd see the day, but I'm surprisingly a fan of this look - opinions? This top was a gift from Motel Rocks as I'm a member of their Street Team (you get 20% off with the code "itscohen"!), and I adore its not-too-girly floral print. It comes up a little big, so I'd recommend sizing down.

This past week has involved a considerable amount of rest and recuperation (not counting a rather eventful last night out in Essex pre-third and final year, but that's perhaps a story for another time). Last night I had a few friends over for Domino's, chick flicks, and pink wine - nothing beats a sleepover! Apart from fudge cake, and I may possibly have made plans to get some with friends early next week...

xxx

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In the corner of an english field.

 

As I pluck the last strand of straw out of my hair, now seems the perfect time to start reminiscing about the past weekend. I know that music festivals aren't everyone's cup of tea; the idea of spending multiple days stranded in a lumpy field, your phone battery slowly giving up the ghost and surrounded by people arguing as to whether someone is in the tent without checking at 4am isn't particularly appealing, but the faithful british institution finds itself beckoning punters back year after year, with over 250 individual festivals taking place annually. The Glastonbury institution may have taken a well-deserved rest while London 2012 used its portaloos, but I headed back to Brownstock festival for the third year in a row, to see what exactly was going down in Brown town...

 

Arriving a little later than my friends due to the event coinciding with the last day of my internship, I found my tent pegged in place (thanks Amy!), guitar being passed round, and generally an environment as far removed from the Tottenham Court Road office I'd left three hours previously as possible. As twilight encroached, we headed into the arena for dodgems and fairground rides, followed by a trip to the silent disco (well documented by my camera, but never will these be published online, for the greater good!). The two main days of the festival were spent between the Piano DJ tent - sets by Devon Mayson, Calico Ghost Town and the opportunity to sing Wonderwall incredibly out of tune - the Noise Kitten Treehouse for friends' DJ sets, the Good Shed for Grand Master Flash, Zane Lowe and Nero, and the Main Stage for Labrinth, the Futureheads, the Milk, et al. The music, without doubt, is the basis of a festival, but it's the DJ playing Jay-Z and Kanye that persuades you to stay at the silent disco, heading to the aptly named Stumble Inn for dubstep when everything else has closed, or, if all else fails, huddling round a piano for a singsong in your pyjamas when you decide you're not ready for bed quite yet that makes it slightly different to sitting in your back garden with the subwoofer pumping out album tracks.

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When I was a child running in the night I was afraid of what might be

1. Hungry for the Breakfast Club

2. Patisserie Valerie

3. Reflections upon Liverpool

4. Me, Claire, Sian, and Bel in Birmingham

5. Bukowski

6. Bracing ourselves for Sabby's birthday

7. Brownstock 2011

It certainly has been a while since I've posted any of my film "photography" on my blog. In fact, I still have a set to scan, and a few rolls of film waiting impatiently to be developed, but I like to think this'll only heighten the surprise/shame when I do finally see what delights are trapped inside the feared negatives. I don't see myself as a photographer, and leave the technical stuff to Jazzy, Lily, Laura and Sophie, but I still like to have a camera (or two, or three...) in my bag to capture moments in time. I know that a lot of people think bloggers ought to have a pricey DSLR to be worth taking up precious pixels, but my little point and shoot and I are plodding along just fine. The above photos were taken with a job lot of expired disposable cameras purchased from ebay, working out as well under one British pound each. They may not grace the pages of a glossy magazine, but I'd rather have a stack of these than a floor to ceiling pile of Vogues any day.

Today marks the end of a summer of interning. Three months of commuting past the Olympics - done! I'm being a little cheeky and leaving early today, in order to get to Brownstock festival before the ticket office closes. It's becoming tradition to end my summer sitting on a ground sheet surrounded by a buzzing bassline from afar, friends cross-legged playing guitar as the sun sets, and dancing to unknown (and familiar!) bands. I may have dreams of Coachella, but I really don't think anyone can do a music festival like the brits!

Enough romanticising, and a quick mention of romance - I'd just quickly like to say congratulations to the newly wedded Mr & Mrs Wren. I wouldn't put it past Eloise to make her first dance a Pitbull tune...

xxx

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