Tequila, Turtles & Total Whiplash

It’s Easter weekend, which means—as tradition demands—I’m curled up in my childhood bedroom with a mug of tea, watching the Boat Race and pretending I still understand the rules. Mum’s already asked me if I want to go to church three times (bless her), and Dad’s hiding from extended family calls in the garden with the cat. Peaceful chaos, as ever. The cat, by the way, has become a permanent fixture on the garden table like some sort of feline patio ornament. Not a care in the world. It’s all very British, very comforting, and just a little bit absurd—like a Richard Curtis film, but with more passive aggression over whose turn it is to make the roast potatoes.

Inside my room, everything’s pretty much how I left it in 2006. Posters of old footballers still cling to one wall, curling at the edges. A couple of sparkly gel pens remain inexplicably functional in a cracked pencil case, and I found a teenage diary that made me laugh out loud and cringe in equal measure. There’s something grounding about being here. Something that reminds me who I was before I was “Sophie, blogger and part-time wellness philosopher.”

But the real chaos? That’s still coming from the Bodhi chapter of my life. Yes, it’s still happening. Yes, I stayed over again this week for what was meant to be a low-key house movie night. It turned into a group debate over which Fast & Furious film was best (??), a broken beanbag, someone trying to make popcorn on the stovetop with coconut oil and a saucepan from 1996, and an impromptu attempt at karaoke that ended with a shoeless conga line through the kitchen. Honestly, it was kind of adorable. And to my complete surprise, it didn’t feel strange. I’m somehow… part of the gang now? A certified Clapham house mascot. They’ve started offering me cups of tea and saving me the nice mug—big moves.

And yes, I know I’ve said that before—but it’s true. When you’re being handed the good mug and looped into group chats for house BBQs, something’s shifted. The other day someone asked me to bring dips to a house meeting. DIP DUTY. That’s commitment.

Even wilder: I’m feeling younger. Not just in the “wearing hoodies and eating cereal for dinner” way, but more free, more spontaneous, more me. The kind of version of myself I forgot existed. It’s like I got handed a backstage pass to a life that’s messier, louder, and weirdly restorative. A little reckless in the best way. There’s one guy in the house—let’s call him Marketing Matt—who managed 45 minutes of sleep over an entire weekend and still showed up at his desk on Monday like it was normal. I genuinely think he runs on caffeine (see: narcotics) and misplaced optimism. Their St. Patrick’s Day celebrations? I have never seen that many empty Guinness cans in one place. The recycling bin is still traumatised. I spent the next day pretending to be shocked while secretly nursing a hangover that came with a side of glitter and confusion, wrapped in one of Bodhi’s hoodies and clutching a bacon sandwich like it was a lifeline.

And then, of course, came the plot twist: Bodhi’s parents are flying in from Sydney at the end of April… and he wants me to meet them. I laughed. Then I panicked. Then I had to stop myself from checking flight prices to anywhere without phone signal. Why would a 26-year-old want his situationship (me) to meet his actual parents? Still don’t have the answer. Just vibes and a slowly mounting sense of dread. I’ve already imagined the scenario: his mum asking what I do for a living, and me trying to explain wellness coaching while wearing a bikini top and linen trousers. Iconic, terrifying, possibly both.

Thankfully, I’ve got a more pressing distraction: Mexico. Yep, I’m officially booked and packing. I’ll be off exploring the Yucatán in early April with a small tour group—think turtles in Akumal Bay, jungle ruins in Tulum, wandering around Chichén Itzá, and inhaling tacos like it’s a religion. Oh, and did I mention my birthday will happen while I’m away? That’s right—Sophie does Mexico birthday week. Sun, mezcal, cultural immersion and zero house share towels. Bliss. I’ve already ordered three swimsuits I probably don’t need and a straw bag big enough to carry at least two existential crises.

Mindset: Permission to Be Wildly Unbothered

This fortnight’s theme? Letting go of the 'shoulds' and revelling in the beautifully unhinged freedom of not having it all figured out. There’s power in the not-knowing. In the impulsiveness. In the saying yes to beach birthdays and no to self-imposed timelines. I’m not trying to make sense of everything—I’m just trying to enjoy it while it’s happening.

More laughter. More limbic system. Less explanation.

Style: The Chaos Carry-On Edit

I’ve been toggling between spring layering in London and packing for full sun goddess mode in Mexico. Think oversized white shirts, breezy linen co-ords, raffia everything, and gold hoops you can spot from space. I’m packing like a woman who might run into a crush at baggage claim—and has no regrets about it.

Also: bringing back anklets. Don’t argue with me.

Beauty & Wellness: Glow State Incoming

Skin is prepped, pores are hydrated, and I’ve finally booked that lymphatic drainage facial. Between the matcha mornings, collagen smoothies, and dry brushing sessions, I’m not even pretending I’m low-maintenance anymore. I’m a full-time glow-up.

Mentally, I’m keeping it soft. Journalling, yes. But also indulging in doing nothing and being totally okay with that. Rest is radical, and I’m leaning in.

Pop Culture & Trends

• I finished The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida and wow—stunning, strange, necessary.

• Coquette-core is morphing into something darker. Think ribbons, but make it feral.

• Everyone on TikTok is obsessed with “glimmers”—those tiny, joyful micro-moments. Mine? The first sip of iced coffee, Bodhi calling me “Miss London,” and sun on my thighs.

• I’ve got cowboy boots in my online basket and I’m this close to pulling the trigger.

• That new Netflix dating show where no one talks for 10 minutes? Deranged. Incredible. Can’t stop watching.

  
  

The Month Ahead: Birthday Babe on the Move

April is basically a soft reset wrapped in birthday candles. Mexico first, followed by a potentially awkward family lunch with Bodhi’s parents if I don’t find a clever excuse. I want this next month to feel expansive, joyful, and a little bit sun-dazed. More real-life connection, fewer overthought texts. Less spiralling in WhatsApp voice notes, more dancing barefoot on rooftops.

I want to eat mango with chilli on the beach. I want to drink something fizzy out of a coconut. I want to dance at sunset to music I’ve never heard before and forget what time it is. I want to feel good without needing a reason. That’s the vibe.

I’ll be back with sand in my shoes, mezcal in my soul, and possibly a few new freckles. But right now? I’m just counting down the days. Birthday week in a bikini awaits.

Sophie x