When Lord Farquaad went for a picnic.

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Striped shirt dress: c/o Bonprix. Public Desire slingback heels. Lips are a weird mixture of a Rimmel pen lipstick thing and Lancome Juicy Shaker (give me a nudge on twitter if you want to know the exact ingredients).

You know when you overhear something, and it just 100% bangs the nail on the head? And then you wait for the exact moment in time to pass the comment off as your own, hailing as 21st century comic genius, while you're at it. Either I tend to hang around where unscouted panel show contestants spend their time, or there's a certain concentration of wit in my local haunts. My absolute all time favourite was way back when I used to spend my sixth form lunchbreaks in Topshop (where else?) and heard two girls skulking among the knitwear stating they "wouldn't pay that if it had been knitted by blind nuns". Five years on, and toppers' price point has only risen - bladdy inflation - but the vocal quirks keep coming. I spied these on Public Desire's instagram and knew they had to be mine, spurred on by both the "Lord Farquaad shoes" and "one pair of shoes closer to my rich trophy wife dream closet" comments. I may look at the shoes with heart eyed emojis, but I can't unsee those connections. Anyone fancy watching Shrek tonight?

Tangent whipped back on the straight and narrow, Laura and I decided to shoot close to home this week, and ended up finding the blue grey wall of my very boring dreams. Bonprix had set the challenge of picking an outfit for a picnic, but as Manchester's lacking in green spaces and I'm lacking in owning anything (let alone a picnic blanket) we settled for a little industrial spin on the theme. For me, Bonprix will always make me think of last-minute "oh crap, we should probably get some food before heading to le Marais" pizza stops at Châtelet les Halles, but turns out they have a massive clothing selection online - who knew?

So, while this post may not contain croissants or animated characters, I hope the above has sufficiently explained why I've gone for that blog post title. That, or I have actually lost the plot. It was only a matter of time.

PS, I know I have a lot of Liverpool readers, so if you're a student there and around next Wednesday Liverpool one are hosting a student event. Get all the details (including info about krispy kreme discount, hold me) click here.
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I just sort of always feel sick without you, baby.

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The windy city, we meet again. I can't vouch for Chicago's status as breezy, but I honestly think Liverpool can give that city a run for its money when it comes to hair blowing in every direction. I have one umbrella left in a bin somewhere in Spinningfields which battled gallantly with the weather, but certainly came off worse. RIP. After a Serious Text Discussion regarding what the weather's like, I settled on my newest pair of jeans and trusty old trench coat (gloriously dumped on the floor for these photos, so glam) to revisit Liverpool on one of the sunniest days of the year so far. Still windy. Still so windy.

As soon as my train pulled into Liverpool Lime Street, I headed straight off to meet Tasha and Soph for coffee at Cow & Co Cafe, a small place sheltered from the river Mersey on Cleveland Square. When it was trusted to me to make a decision on where to go (why guys, why), I had a quick search of Independent Liverpool and settled on this little place after hearing it was a good'un on Sade's recommendation. I went for a bagel with beetroot, feta and raisins (can I have 5?) and latte while the other girls went for a brownie, custard cream chocolate concoction, all of which comes highly recommended from a table of discerning eaters - and the staff didn't even moan at us for taking an unprecedented number of photos. I've never been to Cow&Co before, despite knowing someone who lived a stone's throw away, but I'd definitely give it a visit if you're in town and fancy going somewhere a little off the beaten track.

Afterwards, we headed away from town and wandered around the Liverpool Anglican Cathedral as Soph had never been. I haven't got much more to add from my last post there, but it's a pretty special place. Let's not talk about how much I wanted to go to the Cream event last night and only found out it was happening after it'd sold out. Tiny little tear being shed, right now.

To round up the day, I pulled Sade out of the library and spent a good three hours with her in the Pen Factory, because I haven't gone day drinking for a good while. We didn't manage to cross paths last time I was in Liverpool, so we had a long ol' chat about life and less big topics of conversation; is there any better way to spend a Saturday than with friends a bit of gin?

As I mentioned to pretty much everyone I met up with, it's odd to go back to Liverpool now. When I lived there, I knew it like the back of my hand. Recently it's been going through a little bit of a renaissance and there are new cafes and bars popping up all over the shop, and it's like it's a whole new city every time I step on the train. At first it made me a little sad that "my" Liverpool wasn't the one I knew, but since I've got over it started to trial the new places, I can honestly say the city is going from strength to strength.

Places photographed:
Cow&Co CafeWolstenholme SquareAnglican CathedralSuitcases installation
15 Cleveland Square, L1Right next to Cream, L1St James Mt, L1Hope Street, L1
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Isn't it boring when I talk about my dreams.

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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.
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Hello, I'm Rebecca: social media exec, new-ish coffee drinker and loafer-wearer.
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