Isn't it boring when I talk about my dreams.

Primark coat: £30 (old). Topshop french bulldog top: £18. Vintage suede skirt: £8. Vintage bag: 50p. Topshop frill socks: gift. Chelsea boots: c/o Ted and Muffy.

After a weekend spent on a lot of forms of transport, my head's been all over the place; until I've had my flat white from Pret on the way into work, at least. Call it Network Rail Jetlag (or something), but I've spent this week looking a little bit like the crazy tongue out emoji, but we've made it to the weekend - hurrah! So, while I recover and try to act more like I've got an ounce of sanity in there, I thought I'd take a tip out of the last shadow puppets' lyrics and talk about some of the dreams I've had, most of which have little logic to their name.

When I was little, I used to dream a lot about being in mazes. Not necessarily a nightmare scenario (although those happened too), but there were a lot of twists and turns, which I like to thank for my now second-to-none sense of direction.

When in sixth form, I used to be surrounded by people all shouting my name, vying for attention. Thinking back, that seemed to happen when I woke up too. Bloody whatsapp.

More recently I've found it more and more difficult to remember what's going on in that noggin pre-7am. If it were to be reflecting real life it'd probably be a series of colour-coordinated calendars and google docs, but from the strange snippets my brain's decided to cling on to there are locations a lot like Munich's Hofgarten and a lot of walking. Give us a shout, if you fancy decoding that.

And there was that one time I dreamt about being friends with Miles Kane and Alex Turner, but then I read a few more Shortlist interviews in real life and realised that probably wouldn't work out okay.

brb, sleeping for a full eight hours.

Read more

My planet or yours?

Marks and Spencer blouse: £29.50 (also in white). Marks and Spencer skirt: £17.50 (similar). Adidas Spezial: £27. Rotary watch: gift.

No, you aren't hallucinating, those are blue skies over Manchester. The long-running "it always rains when I'm in Manchester" joke wasn't quite so funny when I had soggy feet for a solid two months, but the city got the Spring memo just in time for having my mum up to visit and show her the sights. Although I've been here for a while now, I still haven't managed to pick myself up and visit all the places on my list; I suppose that's what moving airbnbs then having to furnish a flat does to a girl's free time. But with a few days off, this was the perfect time to have a little wander round the streets I can now happily call "home". And I didn't need an umbrella. Little miracles.

Whilst waiting for my mum to finish navigating the M6 (rather you than me), I headed off to Manchester Art Gallery to stalk the pre-raphaelites see what was housed in the beautiful building in Chinatown. Living in Essex, there wasn't really that much to do other than go out for food or shopping, so it's nice to have renowned paintings at my beck and call, just a 20 minute walk from my front door - give us a shout if there are any galleries or museums that I need to see! The rest of the day was spent showing my mum round the city centre, before heading to the James Martin restaurant for some amazing grub to set us up for the night. I'd recommend the venison, although there was a six course taster menu for £30pp, which looked like a popular choice on the tables around us.

Because you're totally allowed to act like a tourist in your own city, right?

Read more

Double denim and all the frills.

Asos petite denim top: £25. Oasis Isabella jeans: £27. Adidas Spezial: £27.

Hands up if you're an old time reader round these parts? If you can remember back to my old "shove a point and shoot camera somewhere and hope for the best" time, then massive clicks to you for sticking about so long. Looking back at these photos and Manchester's intricate canal network reminds me of about three years ago during my second year at uni, when I used to wander around Liverpool and discovered the start of the Liverpool to Leeds canal route. If you'd ever told me back then that I'd end up living a little further along the route I would've raised an (untamed, forgive me) eyebrow and told you to jog on - funny how life has its little quirks, eh?

Back onto less just-had-a-coffee-and-this-is-life-now existential chat (yep, still heading to Costa to write every single blog post), hope you're all post-Easter egg coma survivor and thus eying up another. I'm heading home next week for food a TLSP gig and hospital appointment, so keep an eye on insta to check all the cute country places I'm off to, a right contrast to this super Manchester outfit (if I do say so myself). I don't feel homesick at all as I've felt like an adopted northerner ever since I got accustomed to Liverpool, but it'll be nice to head back for plenty of catch ups and a temperature a couple degrees higher than the crap we've got up here. So, see you soon London, and, in the meantime, send scarves.

Read more