Never Lie To A Child.

Hiya guys and welcome to a new blog post.

So, this was not the original blog post planned for today, I have a few Paris Blog Posts that are going up in the next couple of weeks but I’ve had a stressful last couple of weeks and a few interesting experiences that I thought I would share first.

But, let’s start with the reason you all clicked on this blog post. What was my lie?

No need to fear mum’s and dad’s in the world. It wasn’t too bad of a lie, in fact, it had a very funny ending. As part of my church responsibilities, I teach music to children between the ages of 4-11. Now, these are dangerous ages.

I like to make my music times fun and engaging so I had an idea to introduce ‘THE SINGER OF THE WEEK AWARD”. I took to church a simple gold medal with the Olympic Logo, that I probably got in junior school.

At the start of music time, I was wearing it around my neck and said to the children, “You are all in competition for this medal, you have to be very careful with it because I won this gold medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics when I was 8 in a swimming competition.”

If you know me personally, I am not much of a swimmer at all, I can swim but I much prefer to watch others swim in the Olympics and could never be a competitive swimmer at all. It started off as a joke, and I thought that it was quite obvious from my facial expression that I was joking.

Boy, was I wrong.

Music time ending and I gave the award to the winning little boy. Before handing it to him, a girl asked me, “Did you really win that at the Olympics?” 

I replied,”Of course, this is real gold.”

If you saw this medal, you can tell that it is the cheapest, tackiest gold plastic medal and not at all close the grandeur of a real Olympic gold medal. But, me being the comedian, I am carried on with the joke.

So, I went to Paris this week and the thought of this lie that I had told the children during music time last week never crossed my mind. I went to church again today and the mum of the little girl approached me and said, “Are you the lady who taught my children last week?” 

I looked at her, apprehensively, “Yes.”

“Is it true that you were in the Olympics?”

At this moment, I was in shock. This little girl had believed me and gone and told her MUM. I had to explain the whole story to her and I quickly apologized for telling her daughter the lie. She shook her head and laughed, “Don’t apologize! That’s amazing, you don’t understand how many times, I use that with her now. I say, come on *Lucy, some children are Olympic Swimmers at your age and you can’t even tidy your room properly.”

I laughed at this, glad that it was being turned into a positive thing. Despite this instance, I have learned my lesson. I will not be lying to a child again. 

I hope you liked this blog post, I just thought it was quite humorous. Please comment down below if you like story time blog posts like this or if you prefer more like my previous blog posts.

To any Mum’s reading this, comment down below if you would react the same as the Mum above. I want to hear from the Mum’s in the house!!

I’ll be back with another blog post next Sunday.

Stay cool and PEACE OUT accidental aspirationalists.

Lots of Love,

Anita x

Week Five – 2 // Sunday Photo Fiction – Fixed Eyes


Photo Credits to 

Some people are so close-minded. Their heads are sat on a shelf. Their eyes are fixed to one spot, never being able to see past their own beliefs and thoughts. Imagine living like that. Head never turning. Eyes never seeing.

That’s how I think of Mr Marshall.

I sit in the classroom listening to him, the words coming out of his mouth were as filthy as the mud splattered tires of a car. But, I listened anyway. Pollution filled my mind as I pondered over what he was saying. I even dared to contemplate it.

A question arises, however, does one become close-minded to think that others beliefs are filth?

I would like to know the answer, as becoming a head with fixed eyes sat on a shelf is not my wish. But then, I guess it wasn’t Mr Marshall’s wish either.


// This was an entry for the Sunday photo fiction challenge if you want to take part check out this link

Also check out the rest of my short stories

Week Four – 3 // The Stupidity of Love.




Love is Stupid.


I honestly believe that. I have this theory that when you enter a relationship, you lose all common sense. It’s as if the person you are in ‘love’ with has taken away your ability to make correct decisions. I am not talking from experience. I am talking from observation.

I have watched friends and family cry over the ones they ‘love’. I have watched hearts break in front of me. I have watched girls make decisions they would never make in a love-void state. I have watched boys run after ones who don’t deserve them. All in the name of Love.

To me, it’s stupid.

People say it’s worth it. But, why would purposely hurting yourself be worth it? Why would you enter a relationship that is more than likely never going to last, be worth it? I just don’t get it. Are you trying to learn a lesson or are you deliberately self-inflicting pain?

I guess you could say, you’ve never had it, so you just don’t understand.

I guess you could say, you’re just scared of putting yourself out there. You’re afraid of getting hurt.

And, I guess you are right.

Some part of me, the darkest part of me, wants to love and be loved. I’m just scared. If I put myself out there if I let someone in, what if it happens to me? What if I’m the one at 2 am crying on the phone to my best friend over a boy. Or, what if I’m the one skipping class to be with him.

I don’t get this concept of love. The way society labels what love has to be like. The way everyone seems to need to experience heartbreak. As if it’s a drink that everyone needs to try. I guess I should rephrase what I’m trying to say.

Love isn’t stupid.

Society is.


Peace out, Accidental Aspirationalists xx

Week Three – 3// Sunday Photo Fiction: Museum Fox

The lights switched off at the main entrance to the Natural History Museum in London. The glass displays opened to air. The security guard settled at his post. He sat opposite the ginger fox on display, wishing for a quiet night.

The fox stared at the strange guard who sat in the same place he did every night. Climbing off the display and walked up to the guard. The fox did not know why it was always trapped in the same glass case being stared at all day every day.

All it knew was that at night the fox was free.

It pattered its feet along the stone cold floor of the museum towards the main entrance and slipped out between the bars. Walking to the back of the building and leapt onto the dumpster, sticking its nose into the bin and eating. The fox kept rummaging until light then turned back. It jumped back onto the pedestal just as the glass cage started to close. Just like it did every morning. The fox turned its head towards the guard, staying still till night would fall again.


This is part of the Sunday photo fiction challenge. All credits go to the photographer. Please enjoy. 

Peace out accidental aspirationalists xx

Week Three – 2// Story Time: I did work experience at a MENTAL ASYLUM!!

Hi, guys and welcome back to my blog!!!

Today, I’m going to tell a short story about something I did this summer. If you’ve read my about page, you will know that I want to be a doctor, (got some more to explain about that soon) so this summer I had an amazing opportunity to spend 3 days at a psychiatry hospital or if you like a mental asylum…I arrived day one, it was on the edge of town, by itself, not much was around just a Tesco. Creep level: high. I walked into the reception and a man with a hi-vis jacket was sat at the desk; no normal receptionist I tell you that. Creep level: higher.

I arrived day one, it was on the edge of town, by itself, not much was around just a Tesco. Creep level: high. I walked into the reception and a man with a hi-vis jacket was sat at the desk; no normal receptionist I tell you that. Creep level: higher.

Walking up to the desk, I stated that I was here on work experience to shadow a psychiatrist. He looked at me and replied, go right through the doors, and make sure they shut behind, he then pointed to a building opposite the reception, across the lawn and ring the doorbell. Make sure the doors shut behind you, he repeated. In my mind I kept repeating the words, this is not a mental asylum, this is not a mental asylum.

I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t that bad, for most of the part, I wasn’t allowed on the ward because it was predominantly male and if I did go on I had to be supervised and with an alarm. Yeah, scary. I would sometimes be walking in the main office part and then turn to where the locked doors would see a lady just standing there, smiling at me and sometimes she would wave. Creep level: increasing higher.

One experience involved me and a doctor, she was giving me a tour of the establishment because it consists of many different wards all at different risk levels (Note: I was on a high-risk ward, Creep Level: High) and then a previous patient was also walking around the grounds. The doctor said to me, we need to get back to the ward after seeing him. Apparently, this specific patient had been discharged a couple of weeks back but kept coming back for no reason. I’m not going to lie, I was scared. However, I loved it!

Weird, right.

The whole experience made me see a different side to mental health and despite my suspicions, it was a very nice environment, the doctors did everything to help the patients. In no way was this blog post trying to stigmatise mental health; I think it is important that we talk about mental health as it is just as important as our physical health. This post is more talking about getting rid of the idea that people who suffer from mental health issues should be “put away”. In fact, I gained invaluable experience from this placement and I immensely enjoyed interacting and seeing other people who we would class as ‘abnormal’; the way they think and act.

There are more tales to tell of this experience but I’ll save those for another day 😉

Peace out, accidental aspirationalists x

Week One – 3// Sunday Photo Fiction: Max



“Hurry!” Max shouted over his shoulders.

I could barely keep up, we were running down a slope towards the river bank. “Why are we doing this again?” I shouted.

Max stopped, “I told you, we need to find the girl and help her”

I had never been to the river before, but I had heard at school about this house which crossed the river bank. Max had always been, what most people would call, a strange child. I didn’t entirely believe him about this girl who needed help. “Right, Yes, to help this girl” I replied.

We got to the edge of the bank, and I saw his eyes search the river, the house, and finally rested on the river bed. “Oh no!” He shouted. “She’s fallen in!”

I looked into the water and frowned.


A splash.

I turned, “Max!”


This short story was written for the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge. This is a challenge where one writes a small piece of fiction, 200 words or less in response to a photo (shown above).