It's back and it's worse than ever!

The Scandilous Life will finally be back on your screens in a near future
Do you want to read all about my schizo life, split 50/50 between Jäger-guzzling, cocktail serving, high-heel swaying hospitality industry madness in London and loud-mouthed, cocky(to say the least), geeked out journalism in Medway where I edit a future award-winning student online newspaper and magazine? Of course you do!

And you can find it right here

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A bliss that tastes of strawberries and whipped cream

I finally moved the last of my belongings out of Liberty Quays, Kent University at Medway accomodation. I am out. It is finally completely off my hands. Staring out over Balham High Street I watch the cars and bright red double-deckers go past as the fruit and veg-guy packs up his raspberries and Jersey Royals for the day. The wind that carries the sweet smell of summer nestles its way in through the open windows and makes my boyfriend's pots of chillies on the windowsill dance in the setting sun. I can hear the laughter and muffled music from B@1 downstairs, and it mixes well with the sound of my guitar as I am tuning it.
It is the last day of June and I have absolutely nothing to do tonight. And on Sunday I am going to Sweden.

I can also tick two things off the list of "Things to do before death". Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney was two breathtaking concerts. 50 000 people singing/belching/slurring/bellowing along to Sir Duke on Saturday night underneath a starry sky over Hyde Park and fireworks in the sunset to Live and Let Die on Sunday. I honestly don't know what to say. And those who know me can tell you - that is rare.

Champagne should be drunk on a roofterrace. Preferrably Aqua's

Whoa, did someone say an intense week?

End of exams celebrations with hugs, laughter and a mini bottle of rosé, rushing back to London for friends waiting with the Jägermeister on ice and even more hugs. Thursday will probably be crowned day of the year as the night celebrating my dearest Sarah Mitchell turning 21(I think) kicked off with Sagatiba training, Champagne on Aqua's roofterrace overlooking my beautiful Central London, a breathtaking Robyn concert and then - neither of us remember much more.
No need to drone on, yet I have to say that despite no more university, my brain is slowly but surely morphing into mashed potatoes. 12 hour shifts and little to no sleep is doing the trick.
But my dear chickens - get out in the sun! Screw the budget - it's not as bad as we thought! Yet someone made an interesting point. Through all the calculations of how much the low income to high income families would suffer etc. - no one had thought of the single professional household. Ones like me and my friends who tend to be unmarried, unreproduced, young professionals living in flatshares and working long hours with a despicable wage. What about us? Is this because we are a London phenomena?

Dear internal organs

I am writing to you in advance to apologize for the horrifying events that will occur over the next four days(14/06/2010-17/06/2010) and sadly effect you and your partners. I am aware of the agreements previously set (see life contract, signed 25/07/1990) and the promises made by both parts to coexist under these, however, this will be an exception. Despite our relentless efforts to make vital cutbacks, certain areas will undoubtedly be affected more than others, such as liver and gastric functions.


My sincerest apologies and with best wishes for a swift recovery
Sara Malm

It's been 365 days

One year ago , she met a boy who hates sports and he met a girl who loves whisky.

The rest is, as they say, history.

I am waving my wand and my exams are still there!

Bowing out of the Harry P Theme Park argument gracefully (read the clever opponents winning argument here) I have realised that I don't really want a Harry Potter Land Theme Park. I want Harry Potter Land full stop. Ten years after I read Harry for the first time and decided that no matter what happened I was going to be as close to this magical land as possible (yes, that is actually true, I was ten years old when I decided to move to England asap and it was because of J.K. Rowling - eight years later I did) I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

Some would call me a romantic dreamer. Others would call me plain sad.

My feelings regarding politics revision