Decision Making.

I have been doing an awful lot of thinking lately. I sometimes find myself very aware that I am furrowing my brow and looking blankly at a screen or looking at the book in my hand and thinking what has happened in the last 20 pages? And this thinking has culminated in a decision to move 146 miles up to Yorkshire.

Long story short: Head vs Heart, Heart won. Not sure how sensible that is, but as my very wise friend and work-mummy Marie says: Make hay while the sun shines. I'm not going to try and predict the future or worry about what might happen, I'm just going to give it a go! That's all anyone can ever do really, isn't it? Just see what happens.

So...I will be off in a mere four weeks, and intend to get bloggering in the lead-up so that you can all help me move, and so that my Aspire friends and fans can keep an eye on me when I am oh so very far away.

Advice on packing, moving, saying goodbye, saying hello, unpacking, York, The North, and anti-wrinkle creams (from aforementioned brow-furrowing) are welcomed, as are any unwanted kitchen appliances, sofas and very warm clothes (it's Arctic up there, right?).

Vintage Style - magazine piece

Kate Moss rarely goes a week without it, Beyoncé collects it, Lily Allen sells it and millions of us want it. What is it? Vintage, daaahling, vintage.

But vintage is just a euphemism for old, isn't it, so what's all the fuss about?

Well firstly there's the glamour and the joy of it all. Everyone loves a good excuse to dress up and have a good time, and perhaps loving all things vintage provides the perfect opportunity. If you ever go to a vintage fair you'll see swarms of happy young ladies wearing full circle frocks and bright red lipstick with their hair in fingerwaves and beehives. Rifling through the rails is only to work up an appetite for a nice pot of tea and – the best thing of all about vintage – a slice of good old-fashioned home-made Victoria Sponge. Beats munching on carrots in your skinny jeans.

Then there's the romance of it all. When True Vintage Fans see a 1950s cocktail dress they can't help but get swept away by the history of it. What sort of parties has it been to, what occasions has it celebrated, what scandal has it been part of? Vintage is for the Creatives of this world with imaginations that can run wild dreaming up stories of the past. One person may see a hideous yellow meringue that smells funny but a TVF will see a lemon cupcake dress that once twirled around a dance hall with a dashing young war hero. One man's junk and all that.

Social status could be another motive: a 1940s Madame Grès gown in excellent condition will be extraordinarily valuable and accessible only to the elite, but optimistic vintage lovers simply don't give up on finding a decent piece at a bargain price. The sad truth is, though, that we are unlikely to stumble across a genuine gem for 99p in Oxfam so most of us aren't even buying vintage, just the idea of it. Anything genuine needs to be pre-1980s yet you'll find “vintage” Topshop jumpers online – mass-produced in 1998, ripped and stained, but “vintage”. Hmmm.

The exclusivity and individuality of vintage clothing is surely another reason to love it. Wear a Zara dress featured on the front page of Grazia last week and you're running the risk of turning up to your university reunion in the same outfit as your ex-boyfriend's latest squeeze, but if you're wearing a 1920s flapper dress you will be the belle of the ball. Everyone will ask you where it's from, so you'll have to practise your nonchalant oh, this? Oh, it's vintage. There will be gasps and jealous sneers, and you'll feel like royalty.

Coco Chanel once famously said “Fashion fades, only style remains”, and I think she was onto something. The stylish 1940s clutch you bought for half a Franc at a Parisian flea market will be the envy of others until the day you die, but the meat dress you bought on eBay last week is already way past its sell-by date.

Lazy Vintage Days.

This morning I woke up and for the first time in simply ages I found myself at home with no guests, no work, no plans...and I liked it! Don't get me wrong, I love spending weekends with my boyfriend or going out with friends or drinking endless tea with family, but sometimes it's nice to just fill your time doing nothing. My Godmother used to sing me that song...

I'm busy doing nothing, working the whole day through
trying to find lots of things not to do
I'm busy going nowhere, isn't it just a crime?
I'd like to be unhappy buuuut I never do have the time

...and on days like today, with a hint of sun and no commitments, I think of it and smile.

I always wake up fairly early, but with nowhere to be today I just reached out to my bedside table (bought last week at the Tip Shop for £4 and painted with black lacquer paint, £8) and finished my book, Isobel Wolff's A Vintage Affair. Have any of you read it?

I work for a shop selling "vintage-inspired" clothes but it was lovely to read about genuine 1950s prom dresses and broderie anglaise and auctions and house sales, and to remember the true meaning of vintage. The book was just a cute easy read but it got me dreaming of opening up a little shop and hopping over to France every six weeks to search through the flea markets for hidden gems.

Anyway, after a leisurely shower and lazy breakast I went into Warwick and Leamington to look in some of the interesting and independent shops. Trawling through the antique centres, the things that really get to me are the rings. So many old rings and surely each one has a Story. I like to let my imagination run wild, picture the scene when the ring was first bought - by a nervous young man, by a woman in a delicate circumstance needing to appear otherwise? When did it first come out of the box? Was it well received, did it make it onto a lady's finger, sit for sixty years next to a wedding band..? I'll never know, of course, but I like to invent something.

Am I the only one going crazy? Does anyone else love vintage? Dream of opening a shop? Make up stories about jewellery with history?

Tomorrow I'm off to Chipping Campden in the Cotswolds. Surely prime vintage land so I'll let you all know if I find a good story....

Sunny running.

Now that the evenings are lighter I'm gradually bringing my training outside - on Monday and Wednesday it was still really sunny when I got back from work so I went to a local lake for my runs. I think these first couple of weeks are going to be a harsh reminder of how much the treadmill fools me into thinking I'm fit! Last night I went to the gym, ran for an hour and felt like I could have kept going forever...half an hour round the lake and my lungs have gone fishing.

I love going to the lake - there are always so many people to watch and so many stories to make up. Old couples holding hands, young lovers having heart-to-hearts, dads feeding the ducks with their kids. And you keep going around, and you keep passing the same people, and the second time you pass them you smile, and the third time you might make a little comment. It feels so....charming, somehow. I'm not sure if that's the right word but it's the one that springs to mind.

Does everyone else love people-watching as much as I do? Do you invent elaborate stories about people who just pass you in a flash but make an impact, somehow? And what about the runners out there, how do you feel about treadmill v outside? Not just on a best-exercise level but in terms of enjoyment??