Our Trip to New York City with WOW Airlines

Shauna Cleary Blog

I can’t believe that it has taken me this long to write a blog about our trip to New York in January. It’s not as if this was our dream vacation, the one destination that we both always wanted to visit and that we saved up for for almost 8 months in advance… but better late than never, right?

In short, New York was… incredible. We’d been talking about going for almost two years and failed to book lots of flights which we saw online for a good price. Then, in May of last year, WOW Air announced their amazingly cheap flights to the US via Reykjavik and without hesitation, we booked the return flight for €230 each from Amsterdam #bargain.

If a flight is €230 return you’re always going to have the initial worries – will it be safe? Is it going to be comfortable? We did of course have our reservations, especially after seeing some bad reviews online during the icy Christmas season where a lot of flights were delayed or cancelled. However thankfully, our flights didn’t cause us any problems.


We departed from Amsterdam Schiphol Airport at 11am on the Thursday morning and after a short three hour flight arrived in Reykjavik where we had approximately 45 minutes to wait for our connecting flight to Newark Airport. Our first thoughts about the plane itself was that it was pretty basic. It definitely wasn’t what we expected for a Trans-Atlantic flight but then again, if you pay €115 to fly to America, should your expectations be that high in the first place? If you think about your standard Ryanair flight, this is how the WOW Air plane looked. There wasn’t a huge amount of leg-room and we did have some initial issues with people in front putting back their chairs, however it wasn’t a big problem and once we explained the cramped situation to them, they were happy to stay in an upright position. 😉 There was no on-board TVs so unfortunately we didn’t experience the amazing entertainment systems as seen so often in the movies. You could however rent an iPad for €20 for the duration of the flight however we opted to read and watch a movie on my own tablet.

Once we arrived in Reykjavik we grabbed quite possible the most disappointing pizza of our entire lives! Not only did it cost a whopping €16 but sadly, it was not very tasty. The airport there is really tiny so there wasn’t anything to do or see but there was a small gift shop but we didn’t even browse through it. The benefit was that it only took us ten minutes to get from the airplane to our next gate so that was convenient! As it was January in Iceland, a bus had to pick us up from the bottom of the stairs exiting the plane and transport us the 300m to the entrance of the airport. We had the same experience on the way home although at 4am in the morning, it wasn’t as fun!


Flying into Newark


The flight that would take us from Reykjavik to Newark was exactly the same as the first. It was basically the same plane and so again, not much leg-room. Fortunately we did have the last row of the plane to ourselves so that definitely allowed us to get some rest and to also have an incredible view of New York as we flew into the city. The six hour flight was probably the longest either of us have spent on a plane however it wasn’t as bad as we expected! We arrived in Newark at 17.30 US time and after some luggage delays and the standard custom-clearance queues, we finally made it out of the airport where we were picked up by my uncle.

Overall I would say that the experience with WOW Air was great. We did have some delays on the flight back from Newark to Reykjavik and had to run to catch our connecting flight with approximately 15 minutes to spare, however for the weather conditions during this time of year I thought that everything was handled well. For the price that we paid I would definitely recommend them to anyone wanting to travel to New York on a budget. You really do get what you pay for but the staff were also really friendly on board. On the way back at 2am, the flight attendant stopped by our row (again at the back) and invited us to her window to see the Northern Lights. The view wasn’t crisp clear but we did see the lights and it was amazing. It was really a nice touch for her to invite us back.

With flights this cheap and a great service, you would be crazy to pay four times as much just to have a direct flight or on board entertainment. We’re already looking at our next holiday to the US and will definitely be checking out the WOW Air prices to get the best deal!










Integrating Into Dutch Life – The Train Station



Every author who writes about Holland talks about the same themes and usually begins by stating that Holland is the land of clogs, tulips, cheese, bicycles, marijuana or something along those lines. However, it was only after hours of pulling my hair out that I realized that all of these writer’s had forgotten one crucial thing in their articles: to discuss what an immigrant really needs to know once they arrive in The Netherlands. When I say what they really need to know, I’m talking about how to integrate as seamlessly as possible into life in the lowlands. While everyone knows the boring facts about obtaining your BSN or finding the best mobile data package, I have compiled a list of the dos and don’ts to living in Holland, to ensure that your fellow Dutch inhabitants will not be able to tell that you have just stepped off the plane at Schiphol. The most obvious place to start on our journey to successful integration begins in the first place you find yourself in after the airport: The Train Station.

The train stations in Holland are incredibly scary and if, like me, you come from a country where you miss the train, think “f*ck it” and go to the nearest pub for a pint until the next one comes along, then being in a train station in Holland will probably send you into a stress-induced coma. The station is a hotpot of lost tourists, time-conscious, working commuters and beautiful blonde-haired creatures, gracefully Olympic sprinting through the station and down the escalator to catch their departing train with a minute to spare. Then… there’s me, one foot below the rest of the Dutch population, squinting at the departure screen, furiously scrolling to find when the next train departs to Amsterdam Centraal, while also weighing up the potential success rate of me obtaining a koekje from the Albert Heijn before catching my train. However, after several episodes in various train stations across the country, I have finally cracked the code of how to blend into the crowd in the train station and have compiled a simple list of dos and don’ts to ensure that you too can fit into this mystifying maze of excellent time-keeping.

 Jacob at Rotterdam

DO: Purchase an OV Chipkaart.

DON’T: Buy paper tickets.

Having an OV Chipkaart is the equivalent of having a backstage pass to the Oscars if you’re a tourist. No longer must you face the embarrassment of carrying around a paper ticket for every journey you embark upon; NOW you hold the holiest of all grails, that shiny plastic card encased in another plastic holder of varying colours and shades. For just €7.50, you too can be the owner of such a magical card and can strut into the station, nonchalantly avoiding the pay machines and arrogantly swiping your card at the check-in point without even stopping in your stride (that is until you realise that you have no credit on your card and have to return red-faced to put €20 on your Chipkaart.) If used correctly, this card will ensure that Dutch people will have a very hard time identifying you as a tourist and if you can manage to find yourself a Dutch friend (with a special discount card that you mere mortals wouldn’t even understand), it will allow you take advantage of a 40% discount on every journey. Kerchang.

DO: Attempt to board the train as soon as possible.

DON’T: Allow on-board passengers room to disembark.

No matter what country you come from, the majority of individuals are brought up to obey certain public transport etiquettes such as letting an old person have your seat or thanking the bus driver on your way off the bus. One such etiquette for those waiting to board any form of public transport, is to allow room for those disembarking the vehicle to safely exit so as to avoid any injuries or potential stampedes. Such an etiquette is not the case in Holland and should you stand back to allow your fellow commuters to disembark, you have failed at your attempt at Dutch integration and must return to your home, pack your bags and head for the airport.  No, this rule is one that is not and probably will never will be practised in Holland and should  you wish to remain living in The Netherlands you must follow these crucial steps to blend in while boarding a train:

  1. Wrap your belongings as tightly to you as you see the train approaching in the distance.
  2. Slowing begin taking steps closer to the edge of the platform, linking up with fellow passengers on your left and right to create an impenetrable, compact herd.
  3. As soon as the train stops, rush with your herd towards the opening door.
  4. Those in the middle may find themselves obliged to create a small pathway to allow those on the train to get through the masses to the platform, however, should you find yourselves on the side of the herd, feel free to continue to push your way towards the door.
  5. If you feel that your herd is failing you and not making progress, you can always jump ship to the next entrance and push from the rear.
  6. Board the train and elbow your way to the nearest free seat in second class.


DO: Stare at your fellow passengers

DON’T : Mind your own business.

Success! You’ve boarded the train and you have now taken your seat along with your fellow peasantry in second class. Now, to complete the initiation process, you must focus all of your intentions on your fellow passengers. Dutch people on trains have an incredibly annoying habit of staring at anyone who opens a bag of crisps, answers their phone or sneezes and coughs too loudly. To become one of them, you too must stare at these culprits, boring your disapproving, inquisitive eyes into their soul until they are shamed into a cone of silence for their entire journey. Should you find yourself as the culprit, well, I usually just stare back and wink until they look away.

And there you have it! You’ve done it. You have passed as a Dutchy in the train station and stage one of your integration process is complete. Stay tuned however as your journey has only just begun and you have long way to go before you can official declare yourself a Dutch national.

What The Bak?? Our 105km Bakfiets Adventure: The Final Chapter


Some very ugly and tired pictures Jacob captured on the train.

We woke up on the morning of the 22nd of June and rushed straight to the train station to grab the first train to Purmerend, our bagpack filled with the leftovers from our sugar binge-shop from the previous day. After nearly missing our train switch at Zaandem and trying extremely hard not to fall asleep, we reached our destination with every finger, nipple and toe crossed that our bakfiets was still there and hadn’t been stolen by some local hooligans or a deceptively innocent looking Dutch mother. By some stroke of fortune (or misfortune), our not-so-beloved bicycle was still there and so we hopped on, took a quick selfie, and started out on our 17km journey to reach Amsterdam. The plan when we reached the capitol was to get on the ferry to bring us to the correct side of the city. We had told ourselves that once we could reach Amsterdam as soon as possible, our journey was as good as over and it would be a simple journey home from there.


Me on the Bakfiets

The 17km cycle to Amsterdam.

As Jacob had done the majority of the cycling on the first day, I had volunteered to cycle from Purmerend to Amsterdam where we would stop and re-fuel before continuing on our journey. After cycling out of Purmerend and hitting the open road, we were both full of the excitement and joy of the prospect of our journey and we took many happy selfies and pictures for the first 9km. To our horror, the remaining 8km revealed that our physical condition had deteriorated quite significantly from the previous day. At any moment on my cycle to Amsterdam, I was expecting my knee caps to explode, showering the cyclist path and wandering ducks with cartridge and bone. I tried to stay positive with the “no pain, no gain” motto running through my mind, hoping that I would have the thighs and calves of a Grecian goddess or at the very least, Beyoncé, upon returning to Utrecht. However the thighs of Beyoncé can only hold so much promise and Jacob soon diagnosed me as being in a critical stage of the bakfiets-induced bad mood and prescribed that my only chance of survival was to get a Big Mac as soon as humanly possible.


AmsterdamLittle under an hour later we reached Amsterdam in record time! Unfortunately we knew that our speedy time was too good to be true and alas, we were in Amsterdam North and needed to travel south to catch the ferry towards the city. With Amsterdam Centraal in sight, we boarded the ferry for the quick three minute crossing and parked the bikes on the other side before heading into the city to grab some food. Wet, cold and hungry just fifteen minutes after finishing our McDonalds, we decided to try and check with the NS staff in the station if it was possible to bring the bakfiets on the train. We hoped that our story and how ugly and tired we looked would touch a nerve and that they would make an exception and send us home in style.  Our eyes glittered at the prospect of hauling this mighty beast up onto the platform and onto the train so we could sit our tired butts in the not-so-luxurious comfort of the second class seats for the twenty minutes that it would take to get us back to Utrecht Centraal.


If our story was a movie we would have encountered the nicest NS worker in the entire universe who would have carried our bakfiets up the stairs to the platform and onto the train while we followed behind, shaking hands and signing autographs for the millions of fans applauding our arrival into the station whilst spraying confetti and popping champagne. However, this is not a movie and instead we stood for half an hour at a customer service desk while some short Indian man attempted to find an answer to our question “can we bring the bakfiets on the train?” To say this man was incompetent was a mild understatement and it took him the first fifteen minutes to try and type the question INTO THE SEARCH BAR OF THE NS WEBSITE. Now I’m going to go out on a (tired and weary) limb here and suggest that someone who works for the NS should know what you can and cannot bring on the trains in Holland, especially someone working the biggest train station in the country’s capitol!! Anyway after thirty minutes had passed he informed us that this was not possible and so we left the station extremely annoyed, grabbed the bikes and made our way out of the city.



Taking a break on the bridge.

Me and Jacob

Squinty Bridge Selfies

As it turned out, the cycle from Amsterdam to Utrecht is very straightforward and all you need to do is follow the cyclist path by the Amsterdam Grand Canal for 45km. There was only one problem with this: you need to follow the cyclist path by the Amsterdam Grand Canal for 45km….. There is perhaps nothing more disheartening in the world than staring ahead in the distance and seeing the same sight for 30km straight. When we were just out of Amsterdam we faced the gargantuan task of scaling a very, very high railway bridge only to find out on the other side that we had taken a wrong turn and should go back the way we came. -_- The only plus side was that we got to stop at the top of the bridge, have a break and take some pretty pictures.

Another 10km into the journey our legs were even more tired and it had begun to get cold and windy. After only 24km my body had had enough and I was diagnosed with a full on bakfiets-induced breakdown. Hopping off the bike and kicking the tires I broke down crying and started shouting at the bike while Jacob looked on in bewilderment. After composing myself by eating some jellies (naturally) Jacob came up with an idea: he would use the lock off my bike to tie the bikes together and he would cycle in front, pulling me along behind him.

Jacob's grand plan!!

Jacob’s grand plan!!

As it turned out, this was the best idea that he could’ve come up with. I was psychologically tricked into thinking that Jacob was dragging me along when in fact I was pushing the bakfiets at a far quicker pace than I had been when I was feeling sorry for myself cycling on my own. Before long we reached the Amsterdamsesstraatweg in Utrecht and it looked like we would soon be home, right? WRONG! The Amsterdamsestraatweg is the LONGEST STREET IN THE WORLD – approximately 7km long – and I was soon near another mental breakdown before I saw the beautiful sight of Utrecht Centraal in the distance.

Arriving at our apartment was perhaps the most rewarding experience of a lifetime. We had made it. We had won the bakfiets game.

*Two weeks later we sold the bakfiets as it had served its purpose for us. Of course we did not mention our journey to our buyer as who in their right mind would buy a bakfiets that had been on a hellish 105km journey? So, if you are reading this buyer, we are very sorry that we lied.

**DISCLAIMER: No bakfiets was injured in the making of this article.

What the Bak?? Our 105km Bakfiets Adventure Part 2.

“Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.”

Albert Einstein  W. B. Yeats.

And so it was with these wise words from my fellow Celtic brother William Butler Yeats that we set off in the morning of the 21st of June to catch our train to Schagen with my trusty yellow bike neatly folded and packed beside our seat. As the bakfiets only had one seat and there was no way that Jacob was going to cycle me in the front all the way back to Utrecht (much to my disappointment), we had decided to bring along our yellow pal so that we could take it in turns cycling the two bikes on the way home.

The 105km journey.

The 105km journey.

When we arrived in Schagen we were collected at the train station by the lovely couple who sold us the bike. As they had told us on the phone the previous night that they lived a bit of a distance from the station and that we mightn’t find their house easily, they had decided that it would be better to just drive us to their home instead. While I personally thought that this was a bit dodgy, Jacob had assured me that the couple were simply very nice people; however, we had no idea that when they had said that they lived far from the station, they were not joking. It took so long that I was genuinely wondering when the hostess would come into the car and give the on-board safety demonstration. Around fifteen to twenty minutes later we arrived at their humble abode, took the bike for a quick spin and paid the couple before setting out on our great adventure. It is my tradition to always shout “WE’RE GOING ON AN ADVENTUREEEE” every time we go on a long journey or pop to the supermarket or whatever, so that is exactly what we did before leaving on our Google-Maps-estimated five hour and seventeen minute journey. HOWEVER, while all of this seems to be a solid plan, it turns out that we had GROSSLY overlooked four major factors concerning the journey before taking off:

  1. The route that we would take
  2. The fact that we should bring food
  3. The sheer weight and size of the bakfiets itself
  4. The terrible winds in the North of Holland.

Day 1: 12:34pm.

Jacob and the bakfiets

Jacob and the bakfiets

We departed on our journey from the home of our sellers back towards the train station and had been cycling for approximately 30 seconds when I cycled ahead to cut in front of Jacob to allow a cyclist coming in the opposite direction to pass. As it happened I was not used to cycling in the company of an individual cycling a bakfiets and cut across him too soon, clipping the front of the wooden seating area and knocking Jacob off the road and into the ditch. After some swearing and shouting, we were adamant that this early mishap would not dampen the excitement of our journey and got ourselves all sorted and back on the road.

Another three minutes down the road and Jacob had a shocking confession to make: the bakfiets was extremely heavy to cycle. While I was whizzing ahead on my light yellow bike, Jacob was following behind me, using up valuable energy to push the bike, only 300m into our 105km journey doing about 10km an hour. We soon realised that this journey was not going to be as easy as we had thought and that the only people in the world who would complete this journey in five hours and seventeen minutes were Lance Armstrong on drugs or some of his fellow Tour de France cycling pals.

To our horror we faced another major disadvantage: we had no idea where in the world we were going. While we were used to Utrecht and its surrounding areas where everything was nicely signposted for cyclists, we may as well have been in the North Pole when we were in Schagen as every crossroad contained absolutely no signs whatsoever. While we had our not-so-trusty friend Google maps, Jacob’s battery was running low and my Irish phone had no data at all; things were not looking so good.


We were approximately twelve minutes into our journey when we realised that we were very very hungry. Unfortunately for us, it was a Sunday and in certain holy parts of Holland, everything shuts down on Sunday. There was not a McDonalds or Burger King in sight and I longed for the sweet taste of a McChicken sandwich as an obvious and appropriate fuel for our long journey. Our only choice was to keep on cycling with the hope that we would soon see the beautiful sight of a giant golden M or smell the sweet cooking of KFC southern fried chicken.

Many cycling, much towns.

Much cycling, many towns.


After suggesting to Jacob that we should switch bikes with the hope of taking him out of his bakfiets-induced bad mood, I took my seat on the coveted bike and soon realised what he had been talking about. Within a couple of meters it became apparent to me how much energy and effort it takes to cycle a bakfiets. While you would think that such an invention would be light an easy to push (seeing as all the Dutch yummy mummies do it with such ease in Utrecht) it is not an easy task, especially when the front is empty and prone to go in whatever direction it chooses. It wasn’t long before  I was overcast with a grumpy and hungry bakfiets cloud and still there was not a broodje nor bitterballen in sight. After what seemed like an eternity, we managed to reach a nearby town with *sigh of relief* an open Albert Heijn. We pulled over the bikes and stocked up on the traditional cyclist’s diet of Auto Drop snoepjes, jam doughnuts, Doritos, Coke and pineapple slices, naturally. It was only as we sat outside that we noticed the angry, dark clouds forming in the sky and in fear of being caught in a tropical thunderstorm (as well as being eaten by the encroaching, randomly located flock of hungry seagulls surrounding our bakfiets) we hit the road once again.


Schagen to Noordbeemster

It wasn’t long before the rain came down and before we once again found ourselves lost and without a much needed bathroom. While we tried to keep our spirits high, we found ourselves being sucked into the frustration of having cycled for approximately six hours straight and only managing to travel around 31km. After reaching an all time low and having to take an au natural wizzle along the side of the road feat bush curtain and dock leaf toilet paper, we decided that our best hope was to reach the nearest town and leave the bakfiets, hop on a train and return the next day to finish the rest of our journey. That is exactly what we did when we reached Purmerend and boarded a train back to Utrecht, nearly crying with tears of joy and hopes that tomorrow would yield a more productive day of travel…

What The Bak?? Our 105km Bakfiets Adventure.

When any given individual hears the word “Holland”, they think of several things: tulips, clogs, marijuana and bicycles. Of course, Holland is perhaps best known for it’s cycling culture, SO, for someone who was generally like a magnet to the tarmac when riding a bicycle, you can imagine my apprehension at having to adapt to my life as a cyclist upon moving to Utrecht.

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Being a tourist in Holland 2014 feat clogs.

I remember quite clearly when I first learned to ride a bike; I was four years old and it was a quiet autumn’s day. My father had removed my sturdy stabilizers and I was preparing myself to cycle off into non-stabilized glory; my chunky cankles propping my short, fat legs into position as I gripped the handlebars like a Moto GP rider, waiting with anticipation at the start line of the Grand Prix, sweating profusely and hoping that the cute five year old boy two doors down was inside having his dinner at the time.

As my father held my seat and began to start walking with me, I was told to begin to peddle and before I knew it he had let go and I was free, peddling ferociously down the roadway of our cul de sac, the wind in my hair, the smell of freedom in my nostrils… until the cold, hard smack of the tarmac knocked me into reality and my sniffle-filled roars filled the quiet silence of the day.

Fast forward seventeen years later to 2014 and I find myself working in Bénodet, France for the summer as a holiday courier whose only form of transportation was, of course, a bike. I sh*t you not, it is not an exaggeration to say that I fell off my bike every single day when I was there. My most glorious and perhaps Oscar-worthy fall came one day as I attempted to pull a remorque filled with various cleaning products and a broken oven behind me on my bike, whilst cycling with one hand steering. As I approached the barrier to the campsite I attempted to switch hands on the handlebar in order to brake and instead of coming to a nice, graceful halt, went flying over the handlebars and onto the ground as the remorque become lodged in my back wheel. Perhaps the only funny memory about the situation was the “Oh Jaysus!” roar of a passing-by Irish Mammy, who rushed to my aid and tried to help me back to my mobile home.

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Given my poor track-record with cycling, I did the most obvious thing that a girl in my situation could do… fall in love with a Dutch guy. And so, all these months later I can safely say that with the help of Jacob and a lot of failure, I have mastered the art of cycling. Last April I become the proud owner of my first bike since my childhood when Jacob bought me this badboy ——>

Helmetless and to be quite honest completely disregarding every other pedestrian, cyclist or car on the road, I now freely roam the streets of Utrecht with confidence and a small amount of pride at the leaps and bounds which I have come on my cycling journey.

After my first few days as a fully functioning cyclist in Utrecht, my new found confidence and arrogance was short-lived and in fact completely OBLITERATED when I witnessed what I can only describe as a severe blow to my morale. Beside me, at a traffic light (specifically designed for cyclists of course), pulled up a yummy mummy on her bicycle which held THREE children in the front in some sort of wooden box, rickshaw-type contraption. This bicycle was the most spectacular thing I had ever witnessed and I was quite frankly shocked that the Dutch people have such an abundance of confidence in their cycling ability that they can stick their children in the front of their bicycles and zoom in and out of the traffic like they’re in the lead for first place in the Tour de France.  Here I was barely able to get my short legs to the ground after I braked, witnessing this beautiful, blonde creature confidently taxiing children around the city with the grace and elegance of a swan.


A typical Dutch bakfiets.

I quickly learned that such a contraption was called a bakfiets and was just one of the many inventions created by Dutch people to enhance their cycling warfare against the likes of China and other continental European cycling cities. Shattered by the realisation that I would never cycle my non-existent Dutch children to kindergarden in the glory of a bakfiets, I returned home full of failure and dismay.

A little over two weeks later and Jacob had become obsessed with obtaining a bakfiets. As we were soon to move house, we justified the purchasing of a bakfiets as something which we clearly needed in order to move all of our luggage and personal belongings the very long distance to our new home around the corner. A typical bakfiets can range between €500 and €5000 so when Jacob found a bakfiets for just under €200 we jumped at the opportunity to purchase it. The catch however, was that the bakfiets in question was located in Schagen, almost 105km from Utrecht in the North of Holland and as it is not allowed to bring a bakfiets on the train, our only option was to collect the bakfiets and cycle back to Utrecht.

The 105km journey.

The 105km journey.

Being the adventure, thrill-seeking individuals that we are (and due to the fact that neither of us had a job at the time and were completely bored) we set out to collect the bakfiets, completely unaware of the adventure that lay in store…

And I Go Back To… Blogging!

Hello there WordPress my old friend, it’s been a while!

Almost three years have passed since I wrote the last blog post on my old site, and after much cringing, crying and convulsive laughter at the random and ridiculous topics that dominated the writing career of my late teens, the time has come for me to return to blogging.

I literally feel about 100 years old reading back on my old blog and screaming at the issues which dominated the majority of my attention back in 2012. While I love to write to entertain people and make them laugh, this blog will maybe take a different direction, as a blog that has slightly matured with it’s author over the last few years.

Dublin to Utrecht

“From €186. lol”

So much has changed since 2012; I now have a university degree (which will physically be in my hands in six weeks time!), I have upped and moved to Utrecht and I have met the love of my life. After taking a break from writing to focus on my studies, I have come to the point where I feel like I need to return to my passion and, leaving the dust to settle on the celebrity shenanigans of my old blog, I am hoping to begin a new adventure documenting everything from my travels and adventures in Holland and abroad, to my attempted cooking skills, as well as throwing in a few commentaries on topical issues such as Kylie Jenner’s plastic surgery or Amy Schumer’s latest movie (old habits die hard!) After pledging that I would have a book written by the end of this summer (barely got passed the opening chapter -_-) I hope to write snippets of ideas here and there and hopefully get some feedback from readers along the way!

So I won’t waste any more time babbling about my plans for my new blog and just get down to business. I hope I can make you crack a smile and maybe even laugh at my posts over the coming while and as we say, “Let the adventure begin!” 🙂