Ey up lads, how’s it going?
I thought I’d just pop up a post and check in with you all.
I’m in Corfu, staying at a nice hotel called the MarBella Corfu. Which you may have noticed thanks to my hideously smug FUCK OFF HANNAH poolside pics over on Instagram. I hate me too, and if you’re rolling your eyes and purposely ignoring my Instagram stories because hang the sweet bejesus on why are there no pictures of cats? Then I totally get it.
Those basic bitches showing off their 11am cocktails and turquoise pools are the worst kind of basic bitches.
(I am the worst kind of basic bitch).
So yeah, I was supposed to write this post whilst on the plane over yesterday, but the 3am alarm (and the four hour kip in a v noisy Travelodge) sadly didn’t leave me feeling pumped for a 1500 mile journey of typing words and video editing.
Whodda thought it?
So instead I took a nap against the plane window and pretended my neck didn’t hurt and my toes weren’t cold and I couldn’t hear the woman two seats along eating not two, but three bags of crisps for breakfast. What a hero.
So what do I need to tell you? Firstly, that blog posts might be a bit slow this week. Whilst I am working whilst away (replying to emails, getting that damned weekly vlog edited and shooting some cute fashion post stuff), I’m not doing too much writing. Aside from, y’know, this post.
OH, and the weekly vlog should be up tonight so long as the hotel WIFI behaves itself – it’s currently at 58% so it really could go either way. Keep ya fingers crossed.
I’m having what I’d call a 50/50 holiday. Fifty per cent getting shit done and fifty per cent lying in the sun reading a book. A BOOK. An actual book. It’s like life before MSN Messenger and Bebo and fuck I’m obsessed with Instagram.
I’m reading Bryony Gordon’s Mad Girl, because SO many people have recommended it to me – not least a person who works for a publishing house who, upon reading some of my own book ideas a little while back, told me to go read it.
So now I have. Three quarters of it. And, aside from snorting Diet Pepsi (uh huh, they don’t stock Diet Coke here, hashtag pray for Hannah) whilst reading funny lines out to Chloe, it’s given me another kick up the bum to write my third book proposal.
I’m actually itching to get writing it again.
Something which I’m v well aware I’ve been telling you since about 1982, but hey whatcha gonna do. Writing a book is a huge commitment, and it’s painful and scary and it’s putting your world out there on a whole new level. ON A PRINTED OUT AND STOCKED IN WATERSTONE’S LEVEL. And if that ain’t daunting, then what is?
So don’t hold me to it if it never happens, OK?
On a side note, I’m looking deliriously tanned. Not because I’ve been frazzling in the sun but because I used up half a bottle of St Tropez mousse before I got here and mate, I am feeling myself.
Honestly, I know life isn’t about how you look, but I feel so much more confident and WHO RUN THE WORLD? HANNAH GALE, when I have a good splash of fake tan on my legs and a non-chipped manicure lining my nails.
Just throwing that out there.
And on that note, I’m off to stalk the Hotel Spa brochure lying opposite me. Because have you even really been on holiday if you haven’t spent your life savings on random stuff because hey you’re on holiday and if you can’t treat yourself on holiday, then when can you?
Hope you won’t miss me too much.
Peace out, sistas.