Lisa Clark - Cupcakes and Glitter Shakes

I’d also already packed up my pink leopard print holdall with everything I’d need for my week in the Londinium. FYI, the pink leopard print is deffo erring on the wrong side of tacky, but I figured it’s so tacky, that it’s actually really rather fabulous. There was probably a whole lot that I wouldn’t be needing too, but imagine how awful it would be if I got all the way to Londinium to discover I didn’t have my pink Converse high tops? Or my sweet-as sugar collection of assorted hair candy? And I’m not even going to begin to imagine what life might be like without my pair of pink, natch, hair straighteners, because that would just be allsorts of crazy.

So, because of my ‘be prepared’ girl scoutness, with a quick SuperGirl-esque twirl, and a brush through my hair, I was more than ready for my all-about-me magazine adventure. Well, as ready as a super-nervous Lola-shaped girl could be.

I checked my reflection, repeated my go-for-it girl mantra, “I’m feisty, fun, fearless and fabulous!” three times, and was ready to paint Missy magazine a distinctive shade of Lola pink!

Yoga Dad and the Mothership were driving me to the station as planned and, if I’m honest, she was surprisingly chilled under the circumstances. The mood switch wasn’t quite switched to mellow yellow, as she kept referring to the Londinium as ‘that big city’ but she was deffo not as angsty as she usually is. In fact she even kissed the top of my head before I got in the camper van. Weird.

Yoga dad was telling her, in his most soothing Californian way, that I would ‘find myself on my time away. I hadn’t been entirely aware that I had lost myself, but what I think Yoga Dad—who always speaks in riddles and rhymes—meant, is that I, Lola Love, am about to embark on my very first one-girl, all-about-me magazine adventure and that I would be coolio-a-go-go and she shouldn’t worry.

Bella, who had kissed my cheek and wished me luck back at the house, was one Mischievous Millie. She had told me that her work with me was done, and that now she knew I was ready to rock the Missy magazine, she was going to go back to bed.

Except, she didn’t.

Instead, she and The Pink Ladies had all come to the station to see me off on my big all-about-me magazine adventure too. Sadie-Cakes was still wearing her pyjamas, and as I boarded the train, holdall in one hand, and a box of cupcakes in the other, Angel checked, and double checked again, to make sure that I’d remembered her shoe size.

I sit close to the window so I can wave goodbye to everyone, and as the train pulls away, I’m safe in the knowledge that no matter what, I have the bestest set of cheerleaders in all of the world.

Fact.

So, this is it.

The Missy offices.

Home to my all-about-me magazine adventure for the next week.

Wowzers.

If I thought my belly was doing crazy kinds of belly flips last night before I went to sleep, it was nothing compared to the triple somersault Olympics that was taking place in my tummy right now.

I had done my very best to prepare myself for all things magazine-y on the train journey here.

I’d read the latest copy of Missy from cover to cover to get familiar with all the sections and the people featured inside. I’d taken out my new super-cute pink notebook that I’d decorated with two pretty cartoon Japanese girls on the cover (seriously, if ever there was an excuse needed to buy new stationery, then doing an internship was deffo it!) and made notes with my new pink pen. I love writing in a notebook in public, it makes me feel like a super-mysterious writer girl. No one ever need know that you’re just writing shopping lists, or in my case, potential questions I might ask Ed-girl, Tori, if I get the chance. I also took lots of deep yoga breaths as demonstrated by Yoga Dad on the train platform before I left. I’d laughed at him at the time, and you would have too if you’d have seen him panting like a puppy dog, but I take it back, because yoga breaths are deffo calming the nervy feelings I’ve got going on.

Well they had done ‘til now.

Nothing could have prepared me for this. The building is ma-hoosive. It scrapes the Londinium cloud-filled sky it’s so tall. It has big glass revolving doors and a security man standing outside.

The security man nods his head and wishes me good morning as I take a deep breath and head into the whirl-swirl of the revolving door.

This is it.

I’m here, and I’m going to be the best intern-girl Missy magazine has ever had. I’ll be attentive, I’ll make lots of cups of tea and despite the crazy amount of butterflies currently inhabiting my tummy, I’ll rock. Besides, I’ve got cupcakes, everyone loves a cupcake.

I stand up tall ready to rock my most practiced runway walk of confidence to the reception desk, when I’m yanked backwards.

Hard.

I turn on my heel, thinking the security man has decided he’s made a mistake in letting me pass, that actually I’m way too young to be working in this big and important building, and that I must leave immediately, but it’s not.

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