Challenge ish: The Renegade

I’m thinking of switching up my FWD blogging format…

Yeah, that’s a pretty shit way to start a blog but bear with:

So I moved to Amsterdam last Monday!

Now, if you’re thinking – FINALLY – then I don’t blame you.

With the amount of leaving do’s I had, it was starting to get a little embarrassing that I was still on UK shores.

Anyways, I really wanna blog about leaving home, and my first week in the Dam, and I know that’s technically not a challenge that I set out at the beginning of the week, but I really wanna blog about it….and it’s kinda a challenge ’cause like, I moved to another country…. and well, it’s my blog…..sooooo that’s what I’m gonna do.

Ok so the last post talked about leaving work, which was hard enough, but the following week I then had to say goodbye to my “real” friends, and well, it was pretty intenso.

A week previous I had thrown out going for drinks before I left…and I got one response:


One, out of TEN people.

No, no… one, out of TEN FRIENDS.

Cheers guys. I mean, I was literally leaving to another country F O R E V E R.

I’m pretty sure Katie and Tom got a better response when they moved to Chorley.

In the end, I forced them all into a night out and ‘messy’ would be an understatement. I’m talking red wine (I don’t drink wine), tequila (I don’t drink tequila), espresso martini (I don’t drink espresso martini) and gin (I definitely drink gin).


And then there was this guy:


So yeah, it’s safe to say we were all absolutely wasted.

Sunday morning I then receive messages from Jess telling me she’s gonna pick me up for lunch.

Erm, lunch?

Clearly this was something I had pre-arranged under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol.

She gave limited details, but this is flake central we’re talking about, nothing new there.

I threw on some clothes and stood waiting on my doorstep looking like shit.

I could not look anymore like shit if I tried.

When she picked me up she came up with this weird reason why we had to go back to hers…..

I was too hungover to question it.


They’d only gone and thrown me a surprise party!  Even my mum, brothers, and nephew made the cut!

I literally died of embarrassment, there in the “breakfast room”.

Hungover to hell, having forced them to celebrate double-time, we popped open the prosecco and reluctantly drank more booze.

Sorry guyssss.

The party was amaze though. It was Dutch themed, which included the Netherlands flag (my mum asked why the French flag was up), Hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles) Holland’s pies, and lots of tulips!


They also had a secret WhatsApp group to discuss important stuff for the party, like how to spell my name:

IMG-20170204-WA0010 (1).jpg

It’s one N btw.

And concocted a plan to make me a book full of themselves taking mirror selfies, because that’s alllll I do, apparently:


The book was pretty funny though:


❤ ❤ ❤ Yup, I love these guys.

So it was pretty difficult having to say bye, but luckily for me, I saved up all of my emotion for the airport, where I was sat in a queue waiting to go to Amsterdam, with a bunch of stag parties, crying like a baby, on my own, like a fucking weirdo.



So that marked the end of my British adventures (since 1986)….buuuuuuuttttt:

My Netherlands adventure had only just begun.


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