Journalism, Shorthand, New Friends....and back comes the complicator.

So I have finally finished my master's degree. Well I say finished, there is still the small matter of the reflective reports, which are becoming an added pain in my small sides.

Two days after finishing and I’m back at the Press Association Centre in Newcastle. I can almost hear the collective groan in the newsroom, who thought they got rid of me a few days ago. After a week, a long, tiring, hard, stressful week, I can hand-on-heart say that I am having the best time of my life. I may be exhausted, waking up in the middle of the night in cold sweats thinking I've failed my Teeline exam, stressing out over sourcing stories, but I am loving every single second of it.

The people I am working with are nothing short of journalism stars. I am finally working with people who actually want to become print journalists, who like me live and dream, eat and breathe for news, stories, and features. I have never been happier. Never enjoyed anyone’s company so much, and never had such a good time, all while reading newspapers, looking a squiggly outlines resembling hieroglyphics, and learning about the legal system.

One teeny weenie problem....it's back. That constant torture in my world that seems to taunt me, niggling below the surface, biding it's time, waiting until just when something is going right, and then BOOM, exploding in my face.

Yes my Crohn's is back - big time.

I like to say that I'm doing really well, and I guess I am really. But I am not sure how much longer this can carry on. I may have given in and gone back on the evil steroids, but I'm not sure I can see that much blood all day every day for too much longer. I'm exhausted, run down, fed up, and, well, in agony.

I am trying to pretend that I am ok. I'm going out with everyone else, dancing, drinking, eating...and well working my bum off. I am still eating, which is always a good sign. In fact, I am eating like a pig. I guess I am scared that if I stop eating I will just collapse.

But, for now, I'm going to keep battling on. This illness somehow always ends up making me stronger. So in the long run this little set back, while it feels like it is killing me now, it should help me to achieve more, and work harder than I ever thought possible.

Watch this space.

Mighty Burger....mighty bad stomach ache!

After my meeting with my brand new editor - who by the way is very nice, and hopefully likes me - I went to a tavern in Liverpool and had a few glasses of vino to celebrate. Then because I hadn't eaten all day, and I had a 4 hour train journey ahead of me - and it was the only place that was open - I did something I despise, I took fast food on a public train.

I haven't had 'real' fast food for as long as I can remember. When I say fast food, I mean the sort that's greasy, cold, soggy, and comes in a carton box, or a grease sodden supposedly grease proof bag. So, McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut, Wimpy, any of those strangely popular slimy restaurants.

Every so often I get this weird urge for a mayonnaise ridden Whopper meal, a strong urge to triple my calorie intake and clog up my arteries. This usually happens when I am so hungry I cant think, or usually, very drunk. This time I was both tired and drunk - a very bad combo.

So I committed one of my greatest sins. I marched up to the Burger King counter, stared at the menu board for forever, and then order the plain whopper meal. The spotty exhausted counter girl asked me if I wanted a large, and I just gawped at her - I felt like saying 'I wont justify that question with an answer'.

As I boarded the train, carrying my greasy bundle, and medium diet Pepsi, I noticed at least 3 other people carrying large BK bags. From the moment I sat down the pungent smell filled the carriage, and I actually felt sorry for the people near me - there wasn't that many luckily.

My meal was more of a dissection than a feast. A Whopper truly is a whopping big meal. My chips were cold, tasteless and not salty enough for the amount of damage they were doing to my insides. My burger was soggy, dripping with mayo and unfortunately nice enough to keep eating.

It took me exactly 50 minutes to eat it all - and mine was a small meal. The girl across the train from me scoffed down what looked like a double whopper large meal in less than 10 minutes - remarkable and revolting. Passengers actually watched me eat - I think they wondered how long it would take - in fact I'm sure a gang of lads where actually betting on it.

All in all it was a horrible experience. I wont be doing it again anytime soon. I hate fast food, and I now know I hate Burger King. My fast food days are defiantly over - I'm too old for it, and my stomach is too weak. I'd rather have a salad any day.

So, the answer to the checkout girl, 'would I like a large?' - Would I hell!!!

Is charging for soya milk acceptable? - I don't think so...

I have been lactose intolerant for more than 6 months now, and the transition has been nothing short of painful. I have given up all the foods I previously loved, ice cream, cream, cheese, chocolate, and even salt and vinegar crisps.

But more than anything else the hardest shock to my taste buds has been the substitution of cows' milk for soya milk.

If you've never tried soya milk, lets just say it's an acquired taste. At first I hated it. For an avid semi-skimmed milk drinker soy milk tastes, quite frankly, like gone off milk. But after 6 months of trying all the milk substitutions on the market - from oat, lactose free, rice and soy milk - I have reached the firm conclusion that in my coffee soya is by far the best.

As a coffee addict, what annoys me more than anything is having to pay for the pleasure of having soy milk in my drink. Why should I have to pay an extra 30 pence at Starbucks in order to have a drink that is actually drinkable? Why should people with allergies suffer financial loss in order to enjoy their caffeine fix.

On top of the 30 pence extra for my 'special' milk, I also have to pay 30 pence for my sugar free vanilla syrup, which helps me to tolerate the gone off soya taste. Some coffee shops, such as Costa, don't charge for their soya, and for that I am always very grateful, however, their coffee just isn't that nice - I think it's a personal taste issue.

So why do I pay? Because I'm addicted to Starbucks, because I love their coffee, and because I have to have my coffee. Also, at least Starbucks provide soya for me, some places just down right refuse to accommodate us, and there is nothing I hate more than that.

So next time you sit down with your steaming cup of coffee, spare a thought for people like me, who have to fork out extra for their daily drink. Perhaps you will enjoy your coffee more.

Tuna pasta bake, chocolate cake, and stuffing sandwiches...for breakfast?

I like to think that my breakfast habits are pretty normal. Every morning I wake up, get dressed, and watch BBC news, while tucking into a bowl of cereal or a few slices of toast. Occasionally I might push the boat out and treat myself to crumpets, eggs, or, very rarely, a sausage sandwich.

I hardly ever skip breakfast, for me it is the most important meal of the day, without it I may as well stay in bed all day - I'm just a nightmare to be around.

As a student for three years I've lived with people who frankly have the worst eating habits in the world, particularly when it comes to breakfast. I've seen people tucking huge fry-ups, mountains of toast, and basically anything greasy and left over, most commonly pizza and garlic bread from the night before.

But a week away in Howden with some students from my MA course, and 3 years of living in student accommodation with stomach churning meals was starting to look normal.

My week in Howden highlighted the total cultural differences between people from different countries. Food in China and Japan is not only totally different, with completely different flavours, ingredients, and textures, but its role in daily life is so totally opposing to ours that it is almost alien to us.

I was amazed by the food habits I witnessed over the five day stay. My incredibly slim Chinese colleagues eat more in a day than I do in three, and they just don't seem to exercise. I have to say I was astonished, and spent most of my time there wondering 'just where do they put it all?' - and ultimately going slowly green with envy.

I witnessed tiny-waisted Amy putting away the largest selection of pub lunches I've ever seen in my life, slender Lillian eating hundreds of cream crackers, and astoundingly, super slim (could be a male model) Taka shovelling food in his mouth like a human dustbin.

But the daily breakfast rituals that I witnessed were nothing short of shocking. For my Chinese and Japanese colleagues breakfast was not just a necessity but a daily indulgence, where anything and everything considered edible is up-for-grabs.

Everyday I sat down with my bowl of Asda Price Cornflakes and soy milk, only to be faced with a table of my bleary eyed friends wolfing down plates of the most unusual breakfast dishes I have ever seen. I'm not really sure how anyone can start their day with a bowl of tuna pasta bake, chocolate biscuits, or a large slab of chocolate cake, but somehow they did.

I watched in wonder at the various dishes everyday. For breakfast, it would seem, anything goes. It is not only the most important meal of the day, but a chance to real pig out, and fill yourself up for the day ahead. I saw my friends scoff down, among other things, sandwiches, cakes, biscuits, left over pasta bake, all accompanied by gallons of hot water and a large variety of exotic teas.

By far the strangest thing I witnessed, and, I'm sorry to say, the most revolting, had to be watching Taka stuff his face with stuffing and chilli sauce on toast - makes my stomach turn just remembering it.

What amazed me is that by lunchtime they were always starving, racing for a cafe, and snacking on cream crackers - how do they do it? It was incredible to watch, and by the end of our stay I was green with envy, and starting to feel weird for only eating toast and cereal for breakfast - I must be missing out on a trick somewhere and a feast.

So as much as I still think that chocolate cake for breakfast is not a good idea, particularly if you want to live a long healthy life, I might begin to spread my wings a little bit on the breakfast front, and possibly try eggs, or pancakes.

But, somehow, I don't think you will be seeing me abandoning my cornflakes and soya latte anytime soon.

A Good Day for Dairy Free

cloned cows creating a moo

Today is possibly the first time I have ever been happy to be lactose intolerant.

After a year of eating lactose free cheese ( which is pointless, and tastes like sawdust), drinking sugar free vanilla soya lattes from Starbucks (which costs extra) and basically being a nightmare in resturants, my time has eventually come - I can finally say, thank god I don't drink milk.

Over the past few days milk has hit the national headlines, after produce from cloned animals has entered the British food chain - and the scary thing is that no-one knows who is drinking it.

Basically this all sounds like typical British behaviour to me. It's all a bit over-the-top, scare mongering, and pathetic. Suddenly we are all terrified that one sip of milk, one scoop of ice-cream is going to turn us into three headed, black-and-white spotted, grass eating mutants, who spend their days running round in circles, mooing and lying down when it rains.

Fair enough, maybe we have a right to be worried. I'm one of those weird people who likes to know what's in their food, where did it come from, and how the animals have been treated. However, I'm not worried that the wrong type of milk, cheese, butter, or even icecream might transform me into a mutant.

I agree with Tom Chivers from the Daily Telegraph when he says: "I stand by my statement that the odds of cloned milk being a health risk are negligible. Laughable, even." Like Tom, I am no expert, however I also find it laughable that the country is (once agin) up-in-arms, paniking about a problem, which may (or may not) be harmful, or even a problem at all.

But who am I to talk - I'm lactose intolerant - I'm not eating it.

Last week someone gave me a chinese sweet to eat, and being an idiot, and hungry, i accepted it. I couldn't read the label, it was in chinese, so I thought, 'what the hell' and ate it - more fool me.

Now, one allergic reaction later, I can't speak, eat, or really do much apart from make weird noises. It is painful, and embarressing, particularly as I had a bank appointment where they treated me as an imbeciel, and refused my overdraft - unfair when you can respond - particulary when said bank made "7bn profit" that day.

So, I have learned my lesson the hard way. Never accept food when you don't know what's in it.

However, this new cloned agenda shouldn't stop those who can enjoy cream, cheese and milk, enjoying it. Don't freak out and stop buying our farmers produce just because it might have been cloned, because in all fairness, what are the chances of it being in your cup of tea?

But, if you're that worried, why not try joining us lactose free people for a while - bet you'll be back to the semi-skimmed in no time.