
I write with confidence and abandon, yet enter every room as the lesser person. On insecurity, oversharing, bipolar, and the strange distance between the person on the page and the person who has to live outside it.
Beetlejuice, finger blasting, university, questionable life choices and the creeping realisation that perhaps I should stop editing myself into oblivion. Welcome back to Being Bipolar.

Beetlejuice arrives in the West End promising chaos, comedy and spectacle. What it delivers raises a bigger question about the increasingly risk-averse state of commercial theatre.
The Dog Stars is a lovely enough watch with moments of something far more compelling. Unfortunately, just as the film threatens to become something genuinely fascinating, the credits roll.
The Odyssey is vast, intimate, brutal and astonishingly immersive. But after the initial awe subsided, one question remained: how much of Christopher Nolan’s epic survives outside IMAX?
A very long day at the cinema turns into a 1am ramble about films, fitness, cigarettes, being perpetually exhausted, fire doors, forgotten medication and, inevitably, blackcurrant cordial down my leg.

A new room, a final year looming and a fresh start. On taking up space, living with the weight of the past, and trying to turn experience into something useful.
Beneath the Hangover bravado of Spa Weekend is something warmer and much more interesting: four flawed women, an enduring friendship and a comedy that ultimately finds its heart.

Mischief return to the West End with their most ambitious production yet. The Comedy About Spies delivers huge laughs, extraordinary stagecraft and moments of genuine genius, but can familiar formulas sustain their biggest adventure to date?

Curiosity has always been one of my defining traits. It’s also got me into trouble once or twice.
These days, I’m an award-winning journalism student based in East London, spending far too much time wandering around museums, theatres and neighbourhoods looking for stories worth telling. Usually the free ones.
It hasn’t always looked like this.
My twenties were messy. Really messy. I spent years making decisions that damaged my future more than they helped it. Somewhere along the way I realised I had two choices: keep collecting regrets or start collecting stories.
I’m trying very hard to do the second one.
This website is where that curiosity ends up. You’ll find reviews, photography and the occasional personal piece when life gives me something worth writing about.