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Happy Sunday, folks! Greetings from a rather grey and cloudy Cardiff - luckily I (ok, A) had the foresight to (suggest that I) take the pictures for this post a couple of days ago, when we had lovely nearly-Spring sunshine spilling through the windows.

Welcome, friends, to my bloggy tour of our master bedroom - or, should I say, welcome to where the magic happens



And by magic I do of course mean the five nights a month where I manage to sleep all the way through without waking up randomly at 3AM (why is it always three AM?! Answers on postcards and pigeons below, please.)

The last time I posted about the bedroom I described the look I was aiming for as 'Scandi-Boho', or Sunday Morning in room form. The latter description was stolen influenced by one of the many podcasts I listen to (though one of the few not true crime related), Carrie On, which is an episode-by-episode analysis and commentary podcast of Sex and The City, because I'm an English lit graduate at heart who loves me some 90's TV and in-depth analysis of basically any media that I intake is my jam. But I digress. My point is, at some point in the Carrie On podcasts the hosts describe one of the relationships (I want to say Carrie and Aiden, but don't quote me on it...) as being shot as if it's always ten o'clock on a Sunday morning. You know that feeling - there's still enough day left that you don't have the pre-Monday jitters yet, you're still all blissed out from sleep and the fact that yesterday was Saturday - it's just the perfect time of the week. And when the sun is streaming across your sheets and you're having a hot drink and breakfast in bed (made by someone else, if at all possible), it's about as close to heaven as we mere mortals can get. Add a good book and some massive chunky bed socks and I could die happily right there and then.

I also explained in my previous bedroom post that one way I was aiming to achieve this blissful state of calmness in the room was by making it a place only for sleep - all of our clothes etc. live elsewhere, in the smaller back bedroom also known as my our dressing room. If you also have the absolute luxury of this option, I cannot recommend it highly enough - not least because it is incredibly relaxing to be able to close the door on the small pile of 'is this washing?' clothes at night and not have to sort through them until it's absolutely necessary the next morning.

However, I did encounter somewhat of a downside to this idea when we actually started to put the room together - namely, that we ended up with the least amount of furniture in the biggest room of the house. Combine that with our soft while walls and the minimal decor in there, and for months, we ended up with a room that felt weirdly incomplete - a bit like sleeping in a half-finished art gallery. 

I tried a few different things to rectify the situation. We need some storage in there (we keep our pyjamas in the bedroom because obviously), so I tried putting our linen cupboard (which until recently was the child-sized wardrobe that had been in my bedroom at home and was originally bought for my nursery) against one wall, Ã  la lovedbysheila, but it just looked lost. I tried creating a reading corner with my upcyled Ikea poäng chair, but it was too dark and the colours and materials didn't really mesh. Basically, it was just... meh.

I moved the cupboard downstairs to the dining room (which makes a lot more sense for it, since it mainly holds towels and our bathroom is also downstairs) and the poäng, with accompanying footstool, to be a second seat in the sun room (which also makes a lot more sense, since it actually goes in there plus the footstool can be a third seat, so all of us - myself, A and the dog can sit in there and chat, which is actually quite lovely), and went back to the drawing board.

And then a few things happened in quick-ish succession:

First, my younger sister moved back to our parents house after finishing uni and decided that, with the addition of three years of acquired things added to the previous ten years of stuff already in the room, she no longer had the space for the old papasan chair she had in there. Now, I had always been a touch envious of that chair - I mean, it's basically a nest for humans - so when my family asked if we had room for it, obviously I snapped it up for the reading corner in the bedroom.

It works so much better than the other chair did - I think partly because it's just bigger, both in width and height, so it has a lot more presence, but also because the wood is light - it's actually made of bamboo, I think, though not sure if you can tell very well from the pictures - so it just works better in the overall scheme, too. I love curling up in this chair by the window when the sun is shining and it's all warm and cosy, but I don't often get much of a chance, because Brokk has also discovered this little slice of loveliness and claimed it for his own:

A post shared by Frances (@fancylikethat) on Nov 1, 2017 at 10:49am PDT

Secondly, I saw this image on Pinterest and decided that I needed a green throw and cushions, stat. Sadly I didn't have the funds for the gorgeous green velvet bedspread in the picture, but I found some fairly good alternatives from H&M Home for about a tenth of the price. 

The final thing that happened I can't really explain, other than that one day just after I'd had some bad news I had a sudden burst of I-need-to-do-something-or-my-brain-will-implode energy and two hours later the bedroom looked ten times better than it had that morning. Somehow, until then I hadn't noticed that I had a very strong green theme emerging - from the new blanket to the plants everywhere to the wall art - and only once I'd shifted everything around a little did it all just click into place.

Interior magic!

Take a look:

Yes, I did put these fir branches and the reindeer up for Christmas and yes, I probably should take them down now since it's almost February... but I really like having them there, they add a cool woodsy/nature vibe that I love and technically I think I can claim the reindeer as Scandi-inspired, not festive? Please enable me on this.

The lighting in this room is my favourite in the whole house *heart eye emoji*

Also, fun fact - my parents bought this trunk for my bedroom when I was about seven, on the way back from a performance with my drama group in which I played Dorothy's sister in a somewhat overcrowded rendition of The Wizard of Oz

Knick-knacks and keepsakes

The rug in here is 'on loan' (her words, not mine) from my Mum - she bought it while she was pregnant with my by saving up all of the money she would have spent on commuting but couldn't because she had horrific morning sickness and was housebound. I've tried to argue this actually makes it more mine than hers, but she disagrees so what can you do?

The little bookcase on the right is vintage and was a Christmas present from A's mum!

This is an avocado tree that my Dad grew from a stone, and was sent to our house as a refugee from my sister's evil cat, who destroyed its twin...

When we first moved in there was carpet in here but we ripped it up pretty quickly and spent a good weekend in here with a floor sander and a dark stain exposing these beautiful floorboards. Judging by the state they were in when we first unveiled them, the majority are original!

Vintage mirror from my Gran and my ficus tree, AKA the first plant I was able to keep alive for more than a month

Our kingsize bed, from Ikea. I'm planning on doing something crafty with the (mismatching) bedside tables at some point, but not sure quite what yet... again, suggestions welcome!


And there we have it! After a lot of unnecessary buildup, my bedroom in all of its glory!

I find it weirdly hard to finish posts off, so I'm just going to leave you by saying that I hope you have a great week, and 


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Welcome to the first post in M.E. Myself and I, a series where I whine talk about my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in an attempt to keep the conversation about chronic illness going, inform the uninformed, and, I hope, maybe even help others in the same boat! Please take all advice/opinions/explanations with a pinch of salt - I'm an Arts Grad, not a Doctor.


Oh yes, I'm doing a series like an actual proper blogger with a plan and stuff. This idea has been rattling around my mind for months now and I've decided it's finally time to release it unto the world and see what happens.

First off, a few disclaimers:

  1. This might be a long one. There's a lot to say, and a lot of context to give, so feel free to skip about, skip it entirely, or at the very least make yourself a brew before you sit down to read
     
  2. As stated above, I'm not a doctor. Please don't take anything I say below as gospel - it is almost certainly not
  3. Although I'd like this series to be useful and interesting to people with all kinds of chronic illnesses, the one that I have in particular - and therefore the one I know the most about and the lens through which I'm writing this - is Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, also known as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, or CFS/ME. Personally, I tend to call it CFS (although for the purposes of the name of this series, ME obviously works better in pun form), mainly because that's what my doctors have been calling it, but all of the above names and acronyms refer to the same symptoms and syndrome


Ok, we've got a lot to talk about so I won't fluff out the preamble any more - let's dig in!





WTF is CFS?

I'm glad you asked! Read this and/or this, for official medical explanations. For an explanation for someone with no medical qualifications, and tbh very little understanding of how the human body/anything works (it's like that episode of Magic School Bus where they go inside the kid's body and all of the blood cells have his face, right?), do read on:

CFS is a physiological disease (recently re-classified as such - for a long time it was considered a mental illness, which is a whole other kettle of fish I can't even with rn) which we basically know very little about. It can affect anyone of any sex/age, but it seems to most often develop in women in their 20's or 40's - because obviously us ladies don't have enough to deal with.

In a nutshell, CFS does what it says on the tin - it's a syndrome that makes you fatigued, chronically. Note the key word there is fatigued - not tired. 



Having CFS isn't the same as feeling like you've not had a decent night's sleep - it's more like feeling like you've not had a decent night's sleep for a year or so, then decided to run twelve marathons back-to-back, and also drunk an entire bar's worth of tequila (AKA Satan's tipple) the night before and you have a massive hangover. It's an all-over exhaustion that affects not just your body but also your mind, making you feel mentally sludgy as well as telling your body that every action you make is costing you ten times more energy than it usually would, so something as simple as going up a flight of stairs or moving from one room to the other becomes something you have to take an hour-long rest to recover from.

It's also worth noting here that the sort of tired you get from CFS isn't the sort of tired you can sleep off. At my worst, I could sleep for 12 hours and still wake up feeling knackered.





Of course, it's not like that for everyone, and it's not like that every day.

Broadly speaking, there are three 'types' of CFS: mild, moderate, and severe - which again, are all named pretty obviously. If you have severe CFS you're more than likely bed bound and able to do very little for yourself; if it's moderate you're perhaps housebound but you can move about and do some things; and if it's mild you might even be able to do most of your day-to-day activities with some modifications and lots of rest. This page has a more in-depth and very useful 'scale' if you want more information.

Personally, I'm very much in the moderate category at the moment - on the M.E. Support scale, I'm probably at a 60-70% as of January 2018. As I said above, some days can be better or worse than others, which is (for me at least) one of the more frustrating things about it. This can also lead to issues when it comes to recovery - but we'll get to that later!


Right but, what are the symptoms?

Per the NHS, common symptoms of CFS (alongside being REALLY F*CKING TIRED ALL THE DAMN TIME) are:
  • sleep problems, such as insomnia
  • muscle or joint pain
  • headaches
  • a sore throat or sore glands that aren't swollen
  • problems thinking, remembering or concentrating (I like to call this brain fog)
  • flu-like symptoms
  • feeling dizzy or sick
  • fast or irregular heartbeats (heart palpitations)

How do you get CFS?



That's a bloody good question and believe me, I wish I knew the answer. Or, like, anyone did.
Doctors, researchers, and people on the internet *think* it can be caused by getting a post-viral infection, or possibly by a specific microbe in our guts, or maybe by high levels of stress and therefore adrenaline, or potentially by an evil fairy getting pissed off that your mum and dad didn't invite her to your naming ceremony and cursing you to one hundred years of foggy-headed, achey and unsatisfying slumber the moment you prick your pretty finger on a spinning wheel.




Yeah but... how did you get CFS?

Oops sorry, I'm with you now. Well, as far as I'm aware none of my godparents had to hide me away in the woods until my wheneverth birthday, so let's go with one of the other options shall we?

Long story short, in February 2017 - literally on like, the first Monday of February 2017 - I came down with what I thought was a bit of a cold. I remember sitting down at my desk in the morning and telling my manager that I was suddenly feeling kind of iffy, making a joke about being allergic to the office. The next morning I woke up and I could not get out of bed.

What followed was about a month of one of the nastiest viral illnesses I have ever had. It was like the flu and glandular fever (which I had when I was about 13/14, and a past history of which is common in CFS sufferers, fun fact!) had a baby and infected me with it. Finally, after almost four weeks of non-stop headaches, earaches, sore throats, sneezing, coughing, barely eating and mainly sleeping - plus a sprinkling of doctor's appointments in which they told me sadly that they couldn't prescribe antibiotics, wrote me sick notes for work, told me to drink lots of fluids and suggested I paint a cross on my front door to let my neighbours know that the plague was upon us - I felt well enough to return to work.

Briefly.

From April to May (maybe? It's all a bit blurry), I could not shake the dregs of my viral-ly symptoms. The sneezing and coughing had gone (good news for the trees of the world, since I must have gone through a forrest's worth of tissues), but the achiness and exhaustion remained. I would go to work for a few days and then have to call in sick, or work from home and finish early. I cancelled any and all extra-curricular activities, and spent my evenings and weekends in bed or on the sofa, trying to snooze away the yuckiness so that I could get on with my life.


Initially, my GP thought I had a post-viral infection, but when I continued to not get better, we started doing blood tests.

Oh, the blood tests.

So. Many. Blood tests.

Here's the thing about CFS: the symptoms overlap with pretty much every other illness imaginable. And since they don't know what causes CFS, and therefore don't know what to look for to prove you have it, in order to make an official diagnosis doctors need to rule out all other possibilities. Which means a lot of blood tests. As a useful guide, the ME association has a list of all the tests that need to be done to get an official diagnosis, which is something I didn't have until very recently and would have actually been super helpful about ten months ago.

Anyway, the blood tests basically kept going until sometime in October. Which meant that for about nine months I was in a weird limbo where I was endlessly waiting to find out what was wrong with me, whilst also being periodically signed off from work every two or three weeks because I couldn't actually function properly.

Such fun!

Around October/November, the doctors shrugged and said that they'd ruled out pretty much everything else, and that they were happy to give me a working diagnosis of CFS. However, that was pretty much all they could do for me, which brings me to...

How do you treat CFS?

Uhhhhhh...

Good question.

As with the cause of CFS, there is a lot of debate over how one is supposed to get better. Because, as I keep saying, they aren't sure why it happens, there isn't a magic pill or course of medication you can take. Sometimes you will be prescribed things to help with certain symptoms - anti-depressants are common, to help with sleep and the fact that you basically have to check out of your life for a little while - but in terms of treatment that (in my experience, anyway) is as far as you can get with your standard GP.

Now, I'm going to add one more quick disclaimer here:
  1. I think the fact that we have the NHS in the UK is brilliant. I am 100,000% behind health care being available to all and I will fight til my dying day to preserve it. I have had treatment through the NHS in the past that would have cost me upwards of £1000 privately and I am well aware of what a privilege that is.
HOWEVER. Nothing is perfect, and as any Brit will tell you if you're unlucky enough to get them onto the subject for long enough, the NHS certainly has its flaws. One of the ones I've been coming up against a lot lately is that there are little to no resources for CFS - or many chronic illnesses, in fact. 

Which makes me feel like this:



Broadly speaking (and if you want to know quite how broadly, do a quick Google for 'CFS treatment' and read any of the raging wars going on in comment sections), there are a small handful of treatments recommended for CFS (see here):
  • CBT | otherwise knows as Cognitive Behavioural therapy - the idea behind this is that you work with a therapist to change the way you think about your illness, and understand how your behaviour can affect it. Unsurprisingly, this method is met with a lot of frustration and annoyance in the CFS community because of the implication that you can 'think away' your symptoms. Personally I've had great success with CBT in the past when it comes to my issues with anxiety, and I can understand how learning to think positively could help your mental health as CFS is an incredibly frustrating condition, but I have to admit I struggle to see how it can help when it comes to the physiological symptoms - which is basically all of them
  • GET | or, Graded Exercise Therapy. This one makes more sense to me - it's basically a sort of physiotherapy programme where you increase an activity in tiny, tiny increments so that you can build up your stamina
  • Activity Management | to my mind, this is very similar to GET, although maybe a little bit more all-encompassing than just physical activity. This is also known as pacing, and is the act of breaking up your days into different blocks of activity at various levels (low, medium, high) plus scheduling in specific 'rest' breaks. Like with GET, the aim is to increase the activity blocks and decrease the rest ones over time, until you are back to something like what your 'normal' activity level would be
From what I've read, heard and experienced, the best treatment is a combination of all three - learning to adjust your way of thinking - and generally living - through managing and ultimately increasing your activity levels.

Of course, the above are just the treatments that medical professionals advise using - there are also boatloads of alternative therapies out there that people will swear up down and sideways worked for them. Put CFS into Pinterest and you'll find umpteen 'How I Got Over M.E. In Six Weeks' posts from people singing the praises of yoga, certain vitamins and supplements, Chinese Medicine and a bazillion other things. I tend to take these with a pinch of salt, but that doesn't mean I don't also try them out every now and again. 



So, what are you doing? 

I've been quite lucky (although my acquaintances, now that I think about it, have not...) in that I actually know a few people who've had CFS in the past. Now, just the fact that they refer to it as 'in the past' was enough to give me hope, but they've also all been amazing in giving me recommendations of what to try. Currently I'm taking a few different supplements and also going to a fantastic acupuncturist in Cardiff, and I will prossibly (probably/possibly) talk about these things in a future post.

That's not all I'm doing, though. After finding out that none of the above NHS-recommended treatments are available to me on the NHS in Cardiff (or possibly Wales), and that it would be 'very difficult' to get me onto a programme in England (despite the fact that I am, you know, English and it's the National Health Trust in the United Kingdom, but whatevs - that's a rant for another time slash never), I had to look elsewhere.

Meaning, I had to go private. This is, again, where I need to point out that I am incredibly aware of my privilege in that I have the funding available to pay someone to help me get back to work. I am super lucky that the job I have has a really good sick pay policy, and that my parents are able to help me out in paying for sessions. I can't really wrap my head around how I'd feel if I didn't have these resources and was looking at losing my job because of an illness I can't pay to treat.

Currently, I am a patient at a clinic that literally only treats people with CFS, and I have fortnightly Skype calls with a brilliant lady who helps me to draw up graded activity charts and talks me through planning to go back to work and discusses different things I can do to get rest time in and is essentially answering all of the questions that I spent much of 2017 frantically trying to get answers to.

For me, this is a game-changer. Having someone who knows what they're talking about, and has treated other people with the same problems and can give me the tools that my brain fog wasn't letting me learn for myself is exactly what I needed. 

Plus in case I haven't mentioned, I really like having a plan.


What next?

I'm really kind of excited about where this series could go. Since I got diagnosed, I've been all over the interwebs looking for information on CFS and similar conditions, and I always find it a lot easier to read personal accounts than the super dry associations and charities. It would be great to hear from you if this post has helped you in any way, and - if so - if there's anything you'd particularly like to learn more about in the future!

And, well...


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"She looks past their faces to the duck-egg cupboards and gleaming coffee machine. It all looks absurdly clean and cosy."

About halfway through Seven Days of Us, I started making a mental list of the order in which I would most like to slap/punch the characters in the face.*

Which isn't to say that I didn't like the book. Actually, I really enjoyed it. It is well-written, funny, dramatic and perfectly suited for curling up with over the December/January period when you can so incredibly easily put yourself in the shoes of almost each and every character, having (probably) just spent an extended period of time trapped inside with family yourself. Francesca Hornak is my favourite kind of author - one who writes realistic, flawed characters. Hence why, at around Chapter Five or Six, I started fantasising about throttling them.

Let's backtrack a little. Seven Days of Us centres around the painfully upper-middle-class Birch family, who on paper seem to be a Guardian-reading wet dream come to life. Dad Andrew is an ex-war correspondent turned restaurant critic for the World magazine (which I'm pretty sure is fictional within the world of the book, since a quick Google only brought up an American-based super Christian website), Mum Emma is a housewife and perfect hostess from noble stock, and daughters Olivia and Phoebe are, respectively, a doctor who spends most of her time in third world countries saving lives, and a media... something who lives the party-girl life in London with her fiancé George. George is a boarding school posh boy and a bit of a dick (not a spoiler, this is pretty obvious from the off), and they're all decamping from their Camden townhouse (complete with Scandi-inspired decor and design classics aplenty) to spend Christmas together at Emma's ancestral pile in Norfolk - quarantined, for a week (hence the title), due to Olivia being freshly back from Liberia, where a Haag epidemic is running rampant.

However, as in so many books about seemingly perfect families, not everything is as it seems! Olivia (who has a tendency towards being frustratingly holier-than-thou) has avoided spending the last several years avoiding Christmas with her family because of reasons**, and is also teenage-style head-over-heels in love with a fellow volunteer who oops! She violated the No-Touch rule with (not a spoiler, this literally happens on page 2), so she has to keep it on the low-down; Phoebe is a self-centred adult child still living with her parents (AKA every Baby Boomer's worst fear) - she calls them Mummy and Daddy and is obtusely oblivious to the glaring issues in her relationship with George - the least of which is the fact that not only do they not live together, but they've also barely spent more than a couple of days in a row together... oh, and he doesn't have a clue about her taste in jewellery (weirdly, a kind of big plot point); Emma is a little bit too into playing happy families, has an unhealthy attachment to her childhood home (which every other character comments on at least once), and happens to be keeping a cancer diagnosis secret (page 16); and Andrew is not only a bit of a pompous bastard, but has also just discovered that he has a long-lost American son (Jesse), who wants to meet him (page 13). Jesse, by the way, is a slightly stereotypical LA guy (gay, vegan, filmmaker, very into juices and has a therapist) who makes a bit of a leap of faith by deciding to fly to the UK to ambush meet Andrew without the latter having first replied to his introductory email.

In case you haven't guessed, the pacing is pretty fast when it comes to dropping the obligatory Big Secrets everyone is keeping.

If you think you can probably see where this whole family-hiding-things-from-one-another-whilst-also-not-being-able-to-escape-one-another thing is going, you're not the only one. I know I was certainly pretty sure by the end of the first 20 pages or so that I had a fairly clear idea of how everything was going to shake out. However, I was pleasantly surprised. While Jesse does, eventually, manage to infiltrate Weyfield (the 'draughty, slightly decrepit manor house' that Emma inherited from her parents), it happens a lot further into the plot than I was anticipating. And while the whole broken-family-coming-back-together theme doesn't exactly veer too far from the course, there are enough little twists and turns to keep it exciting. And to be honest, the plot isn't really the point of Hornak's book - the characters are.

Like I said, they are flawed and very, very real. The story is broken down first into days (the titular seven, plus a couple on either side), and then into the points of view of each character at various points in time throughout that day. The narrative remains third person at all times, apart from a few inserted emails and Andrew's columns, but the language changes slightly with each switch so that the reader gets a very clear impression of how each character thinks and is processing each new beat of information. By the end, they have of course all gone through fairly major changes and are doing and thinking things a little differently, but they stay 'in character', as it were, at all times. Attributes and  insecurities are brought out throughout the course of the week that were implanted in each character from the beginning. If you're a writer wanting to learn how to create well-rounded, believable, and simultaneously likeable and unlikeable characters, I would study Hornak's prose.

This is probably a good time to mention that, while I do have a physical copy of the novel, I ended up listening to the audiobook, read by Jilly Bond. Having listened to a lot of audiobooks recently (I've discovered they're a great hack to bypass the fact thay physically reading can end up being unpleasantly tiring for me at the moment), I've started to notice that the well-roundedness of the players in a story really starts to come out when you have someone reading to you, rather than you interpreting their voices for yourself. Sometimes with less developed characters, you end up subconsciously imbuing them with additional features in your head to help make them more real as you read. This is harder to do when you're listening to a book, because you already have the filter of the reader between your brain and the text. Are you still with me? Basically what I'm saying is, Jilly Bond does a great job of bringing the story to life vocally, and breathing life into the cast, because Hornak has created excellent source material. Her Phoebe voice, for example, is pretty much spot-on to what I had in my head when I started reading.

Finally, the tinsel-strewn elephant in the room. Yes, this is a book based at Christmas. And judging by the marketing and timing of the release, it was definitely aimed at those looking for a festive read. I started it in December and finished in early January, and I am definitely one of those people who loves Christmas obsessively in December (and, ok, the latter part of November), but avoids it like the plague for the rest of the year. I like to keep my Christmas shiny and special, not sullied with the grey sludgy sleet of the rest of the year. So, if I was reading this review I'd be thinking "ooh, I do fancy reading that but I'm not sure about reading a festive book out of the assigned festive period" - my answer to which is, don't worry. It's definitely what I'd class as a wintery book, but it isn't so holly jolly Christmas that it would feel like listening to Slade in July.

Read while:

Wearing | your biggest woolly jumper and daytime pyjama pants

Listening to | Carols from Kings is name-checked several times - otherwise curate yourself a playlist of all the cover songs John Lewis has featured on their Christmas ads since 2010 (non of which are actually, you know, Christmas songs), on repeat

Drinking | tea (earl grey, if you're feeling fancy) or hot chocolate - spiked or not is up to you, but cream and toppings are a must.

*that list, in case you're interested, goes as follows, from most to least slap-worthy:
  1. George the Fiancé's brothers (middle then eldest)
  2. George the Fiancé
  3. Andrew the Dad
  4. Emma the Mum's Friend Nicola
  5. Olivia the Older Sister
  6. Jesse the American
  7. Phoebe the Younger Sister
  8. Emma the Mum (maybe not a slap, but at least a good old shake)
  9. Sean the Other Haag Doctor
**one of my only real quibbles with the book is that I never really understood exactly what these reasons are...
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Hi! I'm Frances, I'm 25, I live in Cardiff, I read a lot, I love decorating my house, I have three guinea pigs and a dog who I will talk to you about for much longer than you anticipated when you asked me about them politely just to make small talk, and I wish I was internet cool - but I'm not.

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