5 Signs You’re Dealing Poorly With Post-Uni Life

So here’s your life up till now:

You’ve got a degree.

You’ve got the kind of job you’d rather not have.

You’ve got ambitions for the future.


You’re still working out what you want to do with your future.

You’re stressing that your life is now stuck because your dead-end job forbids you from thinking ahead.

If any of the above applies to you, why not indulge in (what I think) are the five sings that you’re dealing with post-university life poorly.

  1. You’re Being Sucked Into Your Retail Job.

Apologies if you’re reading this and retail is actually your dream career, but hopefully you know what I mean. You may have aspirations to work towards something more creative – a journalist, a film-maker, maybe even a doctor or a teacher.

And yet on getting your degree, you find yourself stacking shelves or flipping burgers on a part-time basis while you scramble looking for any work experience you can find in your field of interest. But slowly and surely, you find your daily routine revolving around the 12 hours a week you put into your day job. 12 hours!

Just imagine that as a very long, single day at work – that gives you the entire remainder of the week to crack on with your dreams! But your dead-end job starts to eat you up, bit by bit.

  1. You Blame Other People For Your Current Position.

“It’s not MY fault this is the only job I’ve got!” “It’s not MY fault I can’t find any work experience!”

These are the questions you’re probably flinging out left, right and centre to anyone who’ll care to listen, and you’re right. It may not be your fault that you’re having to work in that corner shop for a few pennies. But it is your fault if you don’t buck up and work towards something you actually want to in the meantime.

  1. You Stop Looking For Opportunities In Your Dream Interests.

Moving on from the fifth sign, you’re probably, and slowly, putting yourself in a rut whereby you aren’t looking for work experience/voluntary/internship roles in your preferred profession anymore. That’s something you definitely need to snap out of – those opportunities don’t come around regularly enough for you to pass on them, thinking you’ll just catch the next one.

Just because you’ve got that damnable job staking shelves doesn’t mean you need to turn your back on what it is you actually want to achieve in life. Wasn’t that the reason you went for this job anyway, to fund your future?

  1. You Feel Ashamed That You’re Back Where You Started.

Unless you’ve been a smart-arse and gotten a shit-load of work experience/internships whilst at uni and managed to get that high-flying job that demands you MUST live in London, you’ve probably found yourself back in the family home – and bot does it feel weird.

You’ve spent the last three years living under your own rules, your own regimes, your own schedules. Now however, you’re back to working under the grind of your parents, and it does feel like all those years of learning how to be independent were a waste – somewhat.

  1. You’re Thinking Of All The Bad Things In Your Life (Some Of Which Aren’t Even True).

You’re thinking you’ll never move out. You’re thinking you’ll never get that dream job. You’re thinking the dead-end job you have right now will suck you in and won’t let go. If you haven’t got a job, you’re panicking that you can’t get that dream job or even a simple, normal job.

I’ve got two words for you:

Grow. Up.

I’m thinking the exact same things, and yet I’m also reminding myself to not take my own problems so seriously. You’re still in your early twenties for God’s sake – you’ve got plenty of time to work up some decent dosh with your shitty job, and build up whatever experience you can in your fields of interest.

And if anything, those years you spent learning to be independent (or as independent you can be with a cushy student loan) have taught you to be more respectful and appreciative of being under the family home – hopefully! You can now help out around the house when needed, and trust me, it’s very much appreciated.

So try not to moan so much about where you are right now. Just keep at it. Good things come to those who wait. Or, alternatively, good things come to those who stop whining, get off their arses and do something about it.

…and this is what it looks like inside. And this, and that, and this over here…

So, we now know what I want my dream home(s) to look like from the outside, now let me run the imagination tap and cook up what its going to look like from within…


This may well be too classy for me, but I enjoy the light, airiness this room offers.


This has a somewhat gypsy look to it – I like it!

10 jill barklem

I have no idea where I found this, but I adore this picture so much!


This couple look like they have the perfect life!


Snug or what?

apartment therapy- gypset

Snug AND airy!

bohemian 4

If this is only the corridor, what could the rest of my future/dream home look like…?

bohemian 5

Nature’s bathroom!

bohemian 7

More of that gypsy charm going on here.

bohemian 8

And some more nature going here!

bohemian 10

And this is the living room (of perfection!)

Bohemian Dream 1

Some worldly influence going down here…

bohemian treehouse 2

And this is the library (!)

bohemian treehouse

From the looks of it, this might be the tower room.


Yet another den to add to the collection!


This could be the waiting room (let’s face it, my gaff is going to be THAT big!)


A rather snug storage room perhaps?


An extra bedroom – can’t have too many!


Those are some very odd… stairs?


My back porch!


More of that bathroom from earlier…


I love how fresh and green this area looks.


Another guest bedroom.


The (snug) kitchen.

-sigh- why can’t all of this be mine. Like, right now?

This is my dream home. And that one, and this one, and that one over there…

Being a recent graduate with a rather dead-end job and high hopes for what the future may hold, daydreaming is quite a big part of my life. I’m a born city boy whose currently living deep in the barren marshlands of Lincolnshire, and I often fantasize about genuine countryside.

Or at least, MY version of genuine countryside. I love collecting pictures of nature at its most tranquil, and think to myself “hawt dawg, that’s going to be my future home!” But then I move on to the next picture and I say the same thing, over and over again.

So here then are my dream homes…


I love how this little thing has a whole forest wrapped round it – almost gives a feeling of safety and seclusion.


This handsome number looks more like a den than a home, but is just as lovely. If anything, would it be smashing to have a network of little dens like these?


This certainly has a quirkier feel to it than the others, almost looks like a Hobbit home, size-wise. Maybe this is where I could keep my pets? Obviously, I’m going to have some!


My favourite of this little bunch of dreams – I love how it has a small lake around it, and I love how the light gives the illusion that beyond what we can see is something far more open. This does, however, look more like another den than a home, but what if you put all these little places together? Wouldn’t that be the best home ever? Either that, or the worst excuse for a Megazord.


Similar to the first one, this home looks the most robust and practical out of all these little buildings. Perhaps this could be my HG where I direct operations going on in all my other homes – because I certainly can’t pick just one!


Okay, so this isn’t strictly a house. If anything, it looks like some long-forgotten war wall-type thing – but wouldn’t it be a great place to explore, and maybe convert?


Who would need an alarm clock when you’ve got that river running past your home? And that roof, man – dat roof!


This looks like a much calmer alternative to the above, and it looks lovely. It gives the appearance of a gateway to adventure. Wouldn’t that be the best sort of home to live in?


Again, this one looks like it has adventure right on its doorstep. That may not even be a house, but having a home in this beautifully curved area of woodland is nothing short of perfect.


I love how the greenery wraps itself around this innocent looking home. Perfect for nature lovers.


Ditto for this one!


And lastly, this one. Its the most unassuming of the bunch, and retains that gateway to adventure feel. Those walls around the door look somewhat man-made, so who knows what may be behind it! I particularly love the use of perspective in this – just look at how the woodland is smothered all over the door, and how it looks as if it dwarfs the door as well.

With any luck, all these little pieces of nature will be mine someday, mine I tell you!

Who fancies a bad-ass superhero/comic book calendar for 2015?


My treatment of Frambles has been nothing short of barbaric lately, but life is as hectic as ever, and this is just one of those hectic moments:

Basically, the superhero/comic book blog I write for/am junior editor of A Place To Hang Your Cape are currently putting together a SUPER calendar called Year of the Mockbuster.

Its a calendar that parodies a whole bunch of major sci-fi/fantasy/comic book films that are coming out next year via some stellar artwork by comic book artists who we’ve supported through the blog over the years.

Its also got a tonne of nerdy dates, stretching from the release date for Avengers: Age of Ultron to the date when Marty Mcfly travels into the future!

We’re funding it on Kickstarter and are three quarters of the way in, but with just over a week to go we need all the help we can get! So if you fancy the best calendar for 2015 (yes I know, that’s rather optimistic), then click below!

Snapshots, part three: Split Kit

The final installment!

Jim Pywell is a name you’ve probably never heard of, but he once made me feel as though I had just sunk through the floor never to return to the normal world again. One day in college, we finish a lecture and we are coming down the stairs, heading to the canteen for lunch. Outside the canteen, there is a large cardboard box with several white packets in them. On the box, it reads ‘Free Chlamydia Testing Kit’.

Jim turns to me with a sly smile.
“Should we?” he asks.
“Should we what?” I answer, not quite getting the gist of it yet.
“Take a test!”
“Why, do you think there’s something wrong with you?”
“Oh c’mon, just for a giggle!”

So we take a packet each and go to the toilets. Finding the place empty, we choose a cubical each and the fun begins. I open my packet, but let out a moan at seeing that the contents are broken.

“Mine’s busted, how’s yours?” I call out above the cubicle.
“Fine thanks, nearly there!”
“Oh god, what do you even plan to do with it?”
“Send it off to the clinic of course!”

We both leave our cubicles and he proudly displays his full bottle. I throw mine in the bin as we leave. Jim swaggers towards the canteen like he’s the king of the world. We enter the canteen, I behind Jim at a normal pace and he all smiles at high speed. We enter the canteen, and suddenly something terrible happens.

A bump and a splash are the first sounds I hear, before a tense silence takes hold. Jim has just crashed into a sharp dressed man, complete with black suit, white shirt, black trousers and black tie, although most of the man’s chest has turned to a yellowy-green colour. A distant voice that comes closer suddenly breaks the silence.

“So as you can see, Principal Davidson, the canteen now has all the… Oh, hello Jim, hello Fred, now then Sir as I was saying…”

But here our lecturer from earlier looks down at what the rest of us are looking at. He now looks as if he doesn’t know whether to show anger towards us for what we’ve just done or remorse and sympathy for the Principal he is showing around the canteen.

The yellowy-green liquid spreads slowly downwards, dripping off the Principal’s shirt, onto the floor and through the cracks. I wish I could join it.

Snapshots, part two: Fulstow

Apologies for this being a day late – my internet was being odd last night.

Fulstow is like a pig farm, its crap. Fulstow is like a piece of Limburger cheese, it stinks. Fulstow is like Metallica playing disco, wrong, just wrong. Crap, stinks and wrong.

You drive into the village but its not like you want to, it drags you in. The first thing you see is the post office and pub. The pub’s gone through 4 owners in the 10 years I’ve been living there, and each of them had to discover the hard way what a rubbish village this is.

The post office has met with a similar fate, it’s completely abandoned. The thing you notice the most about it is the roof, it hangs low, really low, over the walls, like it’s trying to protect it from people like me.

The two of them are facing each other on either side of the street. As you go down the road, they’re like two beady eyes staring at you, and then you realize the road is like a tongue, swallowing you up and trapping you. Down the tongue you go, passing each little house along a road that’s constantly tripping you up with its bends and turns and corners.

Travelling through a dead man’s digestive system, that’s the best way to describe travelling through Fulstow, it just gets worse as you keep going. Every home you pass is decaying more so than the last home. The woodland surrounding the village acts as a kind of littered barrier, keeping the village away from the world. But even the woodland doesn’t like its job. The trees sprout high into the sky, as if they’re trying to escape their task of making sure the world never sees this grotty village.

Finally, when you leave the houses behind, it’s like coming out of the arsehole and into the fresh air. From here, there’s nothing but fields and a few farms, one of which is mine. Before you get to it though, the road shrivels up like your grandmother. Cracks begin to appear, the surface starts going grey and weird little bumpy spots catch you off guard. The road is also a bit senile, determined to give you a bumpy ride or make you crash into the ditches on either side. Deep at the bottom of either ditch there lays a thick, steaming river. It bubbles and swells away in an ominous manner, almost like there’s something lurking beneath the surface, ready to jump out and kill you at any second.

If you’re brave, lucky or stupid enough to go down this road, you’ll end up at my place, Studworth Farm. Even Napoleon wouldn’t want this farm. All the buildings are in ruin except for the shed where we keep the tack for the horses.

But beneath all the cracks of this place lies my home, the one place I can feel safe and happy and escape into a village of my own that’s more to my tastes. But I guess having to go through a village that awful makes coming home all the more special, and I’d rather it’d be here instead of trapped within that crappy little village.