and so she went for a run....

You’ll never believe it, but I actually took the first step in my ‘let’s get active and fit this summer’ regime (the ‘regime’ of course being completely underdeveloped and my imagined end result (eg. a body that makes even girls go ring-a-ding-dong) happening over a course of exercises which I naturally glaze over but I apparently enjoy). Well let me tell all you young naive people who are still hopeful that exercise is fun – it is not! Do NOT do it. Get fat, it’s nicer, comfier and it’ll make you happier!

Ok, all that’s a lie but man, wouldn’t it just be so wonderful to get that super hot, toned body just from eating a big bag of Walker Sensations Chicken and Thyme crisps?...  trust me, if those were the terms for that kind of body, then my abs would be so rock hard, anyone who dared touch them would watch as the bones in their hands disintegrated. Again, I’m being a tad dramatic here but you get my point. I am not a female who is partial to the odd bit of cardio.

Nevertheless, there I was on my way to meet Rory at quarter past 9, water bottle in hand, hair atop my head in some ugly bun (which is the most unattractive way to have your hair when you have a round face let me tell you) and no makeup. Sure, there was the odd negative thought: what the hell am I doing? Why do I put myself through such things? Do I smell? - but, in general, I wasn’t feeling too bad.

And then we started running.  

All images of me looking sexy – or at the very ruddy least, a little bit dignified – flew right out of my head the second I’d finished my wee prance down the first tiny road with my hair tumbling out of its bun, my jumper slipping down my shoulders and my top sliding up my (not so washboard) stomach. And if you were to fast forward a few minutes more, after a steep hill which I WALKED up, the heaving panting was beginning to start and the red cheeks were beginning to burn. Basically, I was a mess. A mess who couldn’t cope with the 15 minute run that she had assumed the night before would be easy as pie!

Nevertheless, that mess will again be returning to the hell of a run in a few days time. Why? I have absolutely no idea, only that - despite my earlier advice - I am still clinging to the hope that it will get better and hell, that I may even enjoy it. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying.

So, basically, the point of this post is that if you do happen to see a girl with a scarlet face, who’s puffing uncontrollably and looks like she’s about to die, then please don’t be too judgemental. It’s only a girl hoping – praying – that it will get better and that in the end, she will be hot to trot. Plus, it will likely be me and if you judge me I will get angry. Only... please don’t run away when I do, my jelly legs won't be able to handle that.

Rachael Smith and a £2.70 return ticket to the great Isle of Skye

So, my writing abilities and I have returned for the second instalment of what is set to be the most interesting blog around! (...hmm...)

However, not only have I returned but I actually have some material to play around with in this blog section, namely my great adventure into the Scottish Highlands! (or, more specifically the Isle of Skye).

Now, I have to admit, the countryside isn’t usually a place where you’d find Rachael Smith (that would be River Island or the pub) but at £2.70 RETURN, how could I pass up the opportunity to not only breathe in the lovely aromatic smell of cow poo and battle against clouds of midgies (oh and also see beautiful scenery!) but to see my Turton face for a few more extra days before we all part for the 3 month summer. So, with that ticket lurking somewhere in the recesses of my phone’s inbox, off we tottled to the bus station, only to get on the wrong bus and upon realising our error, aboard the correct bus which unfortunately dropped us off at the wrong bus station. The luck we have. Eventually, after getting on the wrong bus that took us to the right destination, we were in Skye! 

So treacherous we had to crawl

And what did we get up to? Well, I mostly ate and drank beer. Good times I’m sure you’ll agree, though my expanding waistline would beg to differ.  We also walked a good few miles in a place called the Quiraing, described by the theskyguide.com as a place of ‘wonder and amazement’ with elements of the supernatural. I maybe wouldn’t go as far as that, probably only because I’m not that into hills, but it was a pretty brilliant view and I actually really enjoyed the walk, even if it was raining hail and I looked like an idiot in a bright pink waterproof and green wellies. Then we went to the pub after eating lots. 

Some nutters I know also went swimming (I was too chicken of the cold ha). Or maybe the word ‘swimming’ is a bit too broad. More like jumped off the pier a couple of times, until the cold finally broke through their nutty heads and forced them to stop. Then we went to the pub after eating lots. 

The day following this, which actually happened to be our last day there, we headed over to a cute wee seaside village called Plockton, took some pretty pictures and had an absolutely delicious fish and chips, ending my ever present doubt whether I liked fish or not. We were going to be going on a glass bottom boat trip, but the weather was too bad and the boat was cancelled. And you know what we did after this? We went to the pub after eating lots. See the pattern? 

I actually really enjoyed myself, it was great to get a break from Dundee especially since the past few months have been so stressful and generally un-fun considering we had exams and I had work and therefore felt bad and guilty for having fun. 

Two random little sheep on a random ledge. 

View from the Quiraing

The Quiraing

The first of many?

So, this is my first post to my first ever blog. Pretty unfortunate that I don't really have that much to say...