Please hold.

Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh | Molly Drummond

I moved to Edinburgh.

Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh | Molly Drummond

It’s been three days and I feel at home.

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Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh | Molly Drummond

Still a little strange, still a little anxious, but all things considered, doing okay.

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Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh | Molly Drummond

Normal service shall resume shortly.

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Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh | Molly Drummond



Wild (2014): forgiveness and stuff

First off, I think I have to make a statement upfront as a massive Gilmore Girls fan. Having finished this film, I can safely say that its references in the revival episodes of Gilmore Girls completely undermined the emotional gravity of the story. (It’s not the only thing the show did but hey, that’s another post.) And I know that’s the joke, that all of these women turning up at the Pacific Crest Trail have just watched the film and suddenly need to overcome their problems by hiking too, but it just seems to kind of miss the point a bit. From that episode I’d think that Reese Witherspoon (for at the time I did not know who Cheryl Strayed was) was completely overreacting to her mild middle-class white girl problems and her hike was a bit of a joke.

Still from Wild (2014) – Filmista on Tumblr 

How wrong I was. And maybe it’s because of the time in my life when I’m watching it – I started it for the first time like a year ago when it was still on Netflix and I got about five minutes in before I gave up. It wasn’t right for me then.

Continue reading “Wild (2014): forgiveness and stuff”

Procrastination versus compartmentalisation

(This post could also be called “Something other people seemed to have already learned but it didn’t click with me for like 22 years”.)

Unrelated photo of flowers I definitely bought to procrastinate dissertation.

I procrastinate. We all procrastinate. At some point in their lives, even the most productive of people will have stopped doing whatever it is they’re meant to be doing to watch videos of puppies for an hour and a half. It’s just a fact of life: dogs are too cute to NOT drop everything to watch them play with doors.

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Working in a charity bookshop: the customers.

The man stormed out of the shop leaving myself and Bruce looking at each other in disbelief. Having been told in a very kind manner that, although we appreciated his donation of an old rounders bat that was falling to pieces and three tennis balls, we were in fact a bookshop, currently full to the brim with donations, and therefore it would be great if he could take it to one of our other shops five minutes away, the man became angry. He tried to get us to keep the donation, clearly not wanting to take it home but, in the end, told us we were ungrateful and left.

LP corner, Oxfam Bookshop (Aberdeen)

For some reason, this man’s attitude towards us stays with me. For context, for three years during my degree I worked at the Oxfam Bookshop in Aberdeen. During my time there I learned that there are plenty of misconceptions floating around about charity shops – the idea that they’re rubbish tips, that volunteers have it easy and just pile up whatever donations they get, no matter the quality, and sell everything for 50p.

Continue reading “Working in a charity bookshop: the customers.”

Gradua-lly letting go of Aberdeen

Moment of silence this morning as I scrolled Instagram. Please allow me this sentimental post as I come to terms with the fact that I’m really not going back to uni this September.


This weekend is move-in weekend for eager-eyed, bushy-tailed freshers and the start of begrudged returns for everyone else to the University of Aberdeen. I thought I had already come to terms with my undergraduate degree being over but apparently there was still some ties left. Seeing pictures of the beach and Broadhill and knowing I won’t be going back there at all, walking past the football stadium, up to King Street, down Spital and following that hill winding down to campus is making me sad today.

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22 things

It was my birthday yesterday. I’m not a big one for my own birthday to be honest, maybe intensified by the pressure to have this amazing day with balloons and cake and big parties. My day yesterday had none of those things but was strangely almost exactly what I wanted. A chill day, food, talking, sorting stuff out. It could have been any other day, really, but I was nicer to myself than usual.

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‘How to Stop Time’ by Matt Haig: cyclical optimism

This book made me cry on the train there and back again.

train 1 of 2 where i cried

I’d previously read Reasons to Stay Alive, Haig’s non-fiction book about his own experiences with depression. Suffering from mental illness or poor mental health often produces more introspection, more obsession with both ourselves, but also makes us question why it is everyone around us seems content with trundling on, ignoring the end of all things and the fact that no one really knows the point of our existence.

Bit overwhelming.

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Sometimes plans change.

Sometimes you need a step back, a complete transformation of everything you knew. A change of place, the once-all-you-knew becoming some of what you know now. It’s made me question everything. I’ve lost a lot of a routine whilst creating a new one out of ashes of one I had thought long gone. Sticking them together slowly with sellotape rather than glue – a temporary measure for now.

Continue reading “Honesty”

What Harry Potter means to me

My mum likes to pull out pages from the newspaper that she thinks I’ll be interested in. She usually sends a sort of blurry photo over Whatsapp where I can kind of make out a dog wearing sunglasses or something to do with Doctor Who. This time however it was a Harry Potter quiz with extremely obscure questions since the 20th anniversary of the publication of Philosopher’s Stone was a few days ago. (21 points could be won – I got 16 5/6ths.)

To the intern who put this together’s credit, the questions were pretty challenging and I couldn’t for the life of me remember Nearly Headless Nick’s full name. Whilst answering these questions it occurred to me how much useless detail about this book series I had gathered and stored away in a filing cabinet in my brain somewhere. How often for example am I going to be using the answer to the first question, who was Harry Potter’s babysitter, and for the bonus point, what is a squib? Arabella Figg and her inability to use magic despite being wizard-born seems lovely but she’s hardly going to help me on my CV.

Alone in my room. Obviously.

Continue reading “What Harry Potter means to me”