I forgot to mention the Jo-ism part of the last blog. Then whilst I was enjoying a pub dinner on my own (small violins at the ready) it came to me that I needed to explain myself.

A Jo-ism is a term my friends made up many moons ago when they simply couldn’t put into words my inane ramblings. You see, often I would blurt out things I had been thinking about, without actually thinking about them, and expect them to make perfect sense to those around me. To put it simply – people thought I was mad.

Here are a few examples to get your brain ticking over…

Have you ever noticed when you get into a lift that it usually has the word Schindler written on it? Then you draw the comparison and have a chuckle to yourself making you look mad to other lift folk, all the while you’re thinking ‘Schindler’s Lift he he he’ no? I do…

Then there was a classic one from yonks ago where I simply announced ‘how annoying is it when you’re trying to get to sleep and all you can hear is your heartbeat in you ear?’ needless to say this cracker was ensued by silence.

One of the last ones I can remember is saying how cool it would be to be able to take pictures with your eyes – admit it though, that’d be a pretty nifty trick to have up your sleeve – think of all the hot guys you’d have in your wank bank!

Just saying…


Karma, karma, karma, karma, accent chameleon…

I was in conversation with some very good friends the other day, albeit having consumed 2 bottles of Marks and Sparks sparkling wine and a variety of nibbles, when I dropped the C bomb. Now I dont mean the ‘See You Next Tuesday’ kind, but the new Jo-ism (more about that in a bit) I have donned called the accent chameleon.

For those of you out there who are already perplexed by this phrase it’s what I like to call someone who can’t help but imitate the accent of the person or people they are around.

Having lived in a few different countries, and also different parts of my own country England, I have adopted what I like to call a hybrid accent – one that you can’t quite place. For reasons unbeknowst to me, I have always had a bit of West-country in my accent saying things like ‘roight’ and ‘coider’ instead of ‘right’ and ‘cider’ and I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was visiting my old friend Charlotte down in Hampshire every summer holiday and half term and playing with country boys, or maybe I always aspired to live in the Cotswolds in my previous life? But whatever it is, it has stuck with me until now. And it shows no signs of abating.

After my year in Canada and my, nearly 3, years in Australia I have an almost semi-permanent compulsion to say ‘ay? or ‘eh?’ at the end of a question; as if I can’t bear for the person I’m speaking to, to not understand that what I said was a question of sorts. Funnily enough my time at university, which was mostly spent in Putney bar in SW London, meant I had many Aussie friends years before I actually set foot there, resulting in a multitude of people thinking my harmless ‘no worries’ was a genuine Aussie-ism. But now I really do struggle to find my own true voice and accent amongst those that I’ve taken on over the years.

The great thing is I can understand what people mean, even if there are 5 people at my dinner table from every corner of the earth, I understand that if they say: sneakers, runners, trainers or pumps that they are all referring to some sort of sports shoe. I know a jandal is a thong, a thong is not a g-string, and that a double plugger is not some weird sex game played by bi-curious swingers but a flip flop – and believe it or not this sort of translation comes in handy at the most random of times.

I think whatever I hear is what I end up saying – so hopefully my English rose accent is on its way back to me, somehow. But until then ‘don’t get the shits if I don’t sound loike a proper English person when I’m oot and aboot, cos I know I sound funny, eh?’


Accent Chameleon

Accent Chameleon

Totes Amaze – Apparently!

After much cajoling by my social media fanatic friend I am back to try and be more dedicated to this blog. But without wanting to make excuses it has been a busy two weeks and quite a life change, so sympathy is welcome!

I’ll give you the quick down low so you know what is going on in my Hollywood life…

About 7 years ago (ok 8 if I want to admit I’m nearly 30) I met a man who shall we say was my Mr.Big; swept me off my feet and then hurt me really badly. We spent 2.5 years together then bailed because it was too volatile and passionate. I then fled to Canada where I had the time of my life, enjoyed a few gentleman callers and met another man (albeit trying to stay single – more about that later) who turned out to be my best friend not my boyfriend. We moved to London for 10 months then made a snap decision to move to Australia. Fast forward 2.5 years – living on the Gold Coast and in Sydney, my Mr.Big flying over to tell me it had all been a terrible mistake and he wanted me back and struth, here I am back in London again, single, jobless and living with Mummy again. Fall from grace or courage step forward to happiness? Hmm I’m not sure which either…yet.

The great thing about being back in England and not in Australia is I can now talk to people in real time. For those that aren’t so keen on travel out there, real time is the opposite to ‘Fuck It’s Skype Time’ or FIST if you want to abbreviate – FISTing if you want to be clever and dirty. There is always that moment on a Sunday night when it dawns on you you should talk to your family. As lovely as it always is, it requires great effort after a long day at the beach and a few ciders to get the laptop, text the person you need to speak to and then settle into some face time with the parentals. The inevitable ‘what have you been up to, how’s the job, how are you and boyfriend who should have just been best friend’ etc etc.. Instead of this weekly ritual I can now just pick up my phone and say ‘hey I’m coming to see you – be there in 5’ and it’s the best feeling ever – a little luxury you forget about until you have it again.

This brings me to the title of my blog today and this new (or maybe I’m just late to the game?) obsession with abbreviations. Fabs, defo, btw, atm, whateves, and finally totes. For a few Aussie ones I’ll throw in devo (devastated) povo (poverty as in that guy’s a povo bogan) and here’s a beauty – babe as (as in I love Justin Beiber he’s babe as.)

I get how addictive it is, as it does feel sort of nice to say them but I can’t help but think it’s text slang gone mad!

But in honour of my little discovery I’ll list a few things that are totes amaze:

Animal Beatbox
Hamster on a Piano
Fuzzy Fuzzy Cute Cute and
Dick in a box vs Mother Lover

Feel free to look these little beauties up on YouTube and have a giggle to yourself – you’ll soon be finding the voice in your head saying totes amaze for defo obvs!

Until next time…and the accent chameleon…lol : )

Back to Blighty

So I finally did it, I made the big jump and moved back to England.

From being a small fish in a big pond over 7 years ago, I now feel like a big fish in a small pond – but it’s a familiar one, so it’s not all bad.

This is my first blog so I will need to familiarize myself with the inner workings of it all before I can create anything revolutionary, so watch this space!

J x