Many moons ago, 1998 to be exact, I dreamt of one day becoming Carrie Bradshaw. I was going to live in NY, visiting Starbucks with my Macbook by day, then spend my evenings sipping cocktails with Mr Big. Well, the universe had other plans for me and that didn't happen. Instead, I ended up working in London, having TV execs scream in my face by day, and by night, All Bar One was usually as good as it got.

But this weekend, I felt like Carrie. My wish came true and I got to feel like Carrie Bradshaw. Sipping cocktails at Soho house you ask? Dressing in a tutu, whilst a iconic mode of transport splashes me with water? No. The Carrie I got to be this weekend, was the Carrie Bradshaw who lost everything she had ever written, when her computer suddenly crashed and there was nothing anyone could do. Yes, you read that right. When I accidentally deleted my blog last month, it seemed that 2016 wasn't quite done with me yet and this weekend my computer died. It went pop, made some weird noises and then just gave up on life.

And there is no trace of my existence anywhere on the bloody thing since I last backed it up. IN 2008.

I'm kind of sick of this year.