Hello myself,

I’ve realised that even though I’m writing every day, I’m not trying to make it good at all. Not because of time constraints either but because I guess I’m afraid that even if I try it will still be shit. Maybe even shitter than not trying because putting more effort in means making riskier decisions with my words that could have me ending up with a piece of work that’s even worse than if I’d not tried so hard.


If I keep doing that my writing isn’t going to improve so from now on I’ll try to try harder more often. It’s not like I’m ever letting people read this anyway so it doesn’t matter.




Writing Every Day in May #2

I’m reading Nam Lee’s ‘The Boat’. The first story is about a Vietnamese American man and his relationship with his father. It made me think of a few parallels and differences between the way the narrator thinks of his father and the way I see my own mother, who grew up in India.

The way in which he doesn’t want to write about his father’s life but tight deadlines drive him to try to anyway, made me want to explore my own mother’s story through words. I don’t think this is publishing material either but I can’t help but try to document her in some way. Let’s see how this goes, it’s only going to be part of her story anyway.


It was in the dusty heavy heat of Guru Ki Wadali, Amritsar that Palwinder Kaur Deol was born as the third oldest child in a family of six; four boys and two girls including herself.

and that’s it so far…

Don’t judge me I was strapped for time…


Writing Every Day in May (WEDM)#1

It’s officially May 4th so I’m a tad late to the game, but I am tired of writers block so in order to get the old creative juices flowing (which are a tad pulpy and tasteless right now) I have decided to join the blogging every day in May bandwagon (AKA BEDM or some shizz). Except I’m replacing blogging with writing because even though this is a blog, I guess it might be anything from poems to a short story chapter or even a book review since I’m finally getting back into reading (also in an attempt to revive my brain juice (creative and otherwise).

I guess what I’m hoping to get out of this is

  • A feeling of accomplishment
  • At least one idea I can develop and turn into something half decent
  • more confidence in my writing

but above all else

  • discipline.

I am also officially apologising to anyone who has stumbled upon this and is actually reading it. This really isn’t being written with an audience in mind.

I guess that’s it for today. This intro piece only exists as an incentive to write tomorrow really.


See you tomorrow me, try and me more interesting tomorrow 😉



A Message To My Period

O Period, O Period. Why don’t you bleed me dry?

My emotions are in turmoil,

everyday you make me cry.

I’m craving food all the time

preferably something fried.

You hear the desolation in my soul

Every time I let out a sigh.

Hear me shout all through the night;

O period,


An Introduction to the Kenya Adventures

the best time of my entire life

AKA the best time you’ve never had yet.

this is an introduction to ‘The Kenya Adventures’ a new segment on my blog where I write about my time volunteering in Africa the summer of 2012. Every single day of the trip will eventually be blogged.

Two years ago I was sitting in an Assembly hall at my school completely unaware that that particular assemble unlike all the other boring monotonous ones that year, was going to change me forever.

Some of the older students at our school started talking about this trip they had gone on with camps international. to Kenya. CI have camps all over the world in developing countries that you can volunteer in in order to help out in local communities, help to protect wildlife, do a bit of conservation life and complete a physical challenge like climb a mountain, a PADI scuba qualification and jungle treks.

Our School did the Kenya Scuba trip for a whole month, it was £3725 alone just to go, with a 10% deposit upfront and two years to fund raise the rest (or course they don’t expect your parents to pay!- what normal parent has that much just hanging around). In return you got to spend a whole month in Kenya living in a tent within different rural Kenyan communities as you traveled from camp to camp doing project work that includes everything from building, conserving wildlife and protecting the environment. Usually you went as a group of students from your own school but our school is really cheap and so only a few students end up going each year.

The main reason for me wanting to go to Kenya so bad was because I’ve never had to work for anything in my life ever, everything has been handed to me on a plate, just like a lot of people in first world countries.

  • My parents make enough to support the family so I don’t have to
  • I don’t just get enough food for me to eat so I don’t go hungry, I could eat myself sick everyday, and yet there are people in the world who are lucky to have one meal a day.
  • I am so damn lazy. Even though I go to school GCSE’s weren’t exactly that mentally taxing at the time, especially since I hardly ever revised for them. All I ever do is eat, sleep, go to school and surf the internet, I was bored out of my mind. Preparing for Kenya was like giving my ass a good kicking and getting myself to do things.

The other reasons was intense guilt, and a need to try and fix as much of the world as I could, if I’m so privileged in life, I could at least use that privileged to help out other people who weren’t as lucky right?

and that’s why I paid that £372. 50 deposit.

And so it began, I want to share with everyone all the ups and downs and how lucky I felt to do something like this and hopefully you’ll like the day to day ins and outs of a trip like the one I went on and hopefully it might even inspire you to go on a GAP trip yourself or convince your school to go on a school expedition like we did

I promise we’ll have fun,

– Love TJ

The Kenya Adventures: Pre-flight Anxiety (part one)

If you don’t know what ‘The Kenya Adventures are the click here, but if you do then lets carry on… (hint: this is where it gets good)

Before traveling to Kenya me and Callie (the only other student apart from me going on the trip) were really nervous  We’d only just paid everything off on time, Mrs Gobshit (can you tell I’ve changed the names of people in this blog) was the teacher that would be accompanying us and Jesus Christ was she unbearable. Her screams of “PICK UP THAT LITTER” and “DO YOU WANT A DETENTION YOUNG MAN, I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR EXISTENCE IN MY LIFE ” can be heard half way down the corridor and she is always talking about how busy she is and how she doesn’t even have time to breath, she has to get other people to do it for her. Not to mention how she has to control everything.

A little while before we were due to leave she called us in to her office to see if we had packed everything on the kit list for the trip (yet another expense we never thought we’d raise enough money for). Me and Callie trudged to school with our heavy rucksacks that we were supposed to take everywhere with us while we were there (you can’t go on an Expedition type adventure and take a suitcase that’s just uncool) and filed in to her cupboard Office (also known as the waiting room to hell) where she proceeded to tell us to take every item of our things out of our rucksacks, and on to her floor; shirts, trousers, shorts, torches, first aid kits, Malerone tablets, passports, visas, underwear.- Yes. That’s right. We had to spread out our underwear on her floor, bras and knickers for the whole school to see while they got to rush past on their way home while getting an eye full our delicates  I never thought I’d say this but a whole bunch of year 8 boys now know what colour underwear I have, and I will never forgive Gobshit for that kind of obscene humiliation.

You’d think that after she’d seen that we had sufficient underwear to last us a month and weren’t dirty savages she’d let us put them back but no. We had them out for a good half hour, while teachers and students would randomly pop in because they needed her (in all fairness the lady is actually really busy all of the time).

As if that wasn’t enough humiliation for one day, she then proceeded to scream at me whenever I had an item missing from the list. I DIDN’T KNOW HAVING A HEAD TORCH WAS THAT IMPORTANT, YOU WERE THE ONE THAT TOLD ME NOT EVERY SINGLE ITEM ON THE LIST WAS IMPORTANT. Apparently the camps were mostly outdoors and didn’t have lights, however if someone had mentioned that to me, I’d have realised why we needed the head torches. She then proceeded to howl on about how one set of night wear was enough for a month (and she thought we were the savages)

After an hour of abuse me and Callie had been given a list of items that were imperative for us to have and stuff that we didn’t have to care about. Except for the fact that we’d already started buying things and half the things Gobshit has rendered useless we’d already bought.

But the Important part was that we were free from the bitches clutches, at least for a little while

How we were going to spend the entire month living with her, I had no idea

Just another Love Poem…


If you are the morning air then I am the sunbird that comes alive with it

If you are the ocean then I’m all the fishes that will ever swim in it

If you are the sky, I am the blue that comes with it

If you are the Savannah, I am the African sunset

Whatever you are, I belong with it.

Dear Ali G. Khan, Address: Shimoni, Diani Beach, Kenya

Dear Ali,

I was thinking of you just the other day (yet again) during a free period. Do you remember me? TJ with the the black one piece swimming costume and mismatch purple board shorts, who gave you a love letter disguised as a thank you note? I miss your curly hair, and your deep warm skin, your voice-which I can’t even explain correctly without ruining it so I’ll just stay silent. Not to mention tattoos that made me think there was  more to your story than you told. I wish I was in Kenya with you right now.

I never really told you how much you enchant me, but a little part of me was hoping so much that you would guess and say ‘me too’. It’s the way you told stories and bewitched a whole room in to silence and stole their breath away, keeping them on the very edge of their seats like your words had all the oxygen and there just wasn’t enough for everyone, at least for me I never felt there was enough. It didn’t matter to me if it was stories, magic tricks or your entire personality itself. You enchant me all the time. To the point where I dream of you even when my eyes are wide awake and your bravery makes me want to be fierce against the whole world because if you can wrestle with sharks, surely I can pick up a few fish, and if you can captivate an entire audience, surely I can string together a few words.

If you were in your 20s and so was I. Things would things be different. (or at least I hope so)  Sometimes I like to imagine young versions of ourselves meeting for the first time at Diani. This makes me feel more hopeful, that in a lifetime somewhere, sometime, somehow… You and I might end up together.

I’d be on holiday with my friends, and for want of an adventure we’d decide to go diving, little would I know (as cheesy as it sounds) that It wouldn’t just be the reefs that I’d discover it would also be you. We’d be walking down to the coast and you’d be waiting with your crew, thinking it was just another bunch of girls on a holiday that you’d be diving with, maybe even flirting a bit if any of them were cute. Then you’d turn around and see me walking down the beach at the exact same moment that I looked over at you and your eyes would meet across the white sand our hearts would jump a beat and we’d just know. I don’t know how but somehow, sometimes you can just look at someone and realise that simply by knowing them, they will change their whole lives. Even when I saw you in reality I knew I’d never be the same.

You’d say “Hi. My name’s Ali” and it would be the beginning of a future

Not a means to an end.

– Love your number 1 Angel