So the new year is here, it's January 3rd. The clique 'new year, new me' saying is burning in my mind. I usually hate when people believe that the beginning of a new year means that they are only just now able to change themselves - why not any other time of the year? However, for me I do feel like now I am becoming a new person.

My 5 year relationship has ended, and in my mid-twenties I have moved back in with my parents, in their box room. Don't get me wrong, i'm very grateful for a room at all, but after having my own house for 2 years, it's a bit of a change barely being able to fit your bed and television in the same room without the fear of the television falling on your head in the middle of the night and leaving you looking like a flattened Freddie Kruger. Thankfully this is yet to happen, as I don't feel that I would make the best impression going up to my boss and saying "Hi Mandy, I have recently had an incident which has left my face slightly distorted, but my customer service is still impeccable, the children round here aren't easily scared, are they?" Probably not the best way to come back after Christmas.

It's only a supervisor role at this little place round the corner, which I found out was just another way of saying a glorified waitress. I was a financial adviser before at a Victorian hotel, it was massive and had a lot of partnering hotels around the UK, therefore quite fancy (not great for those of us who have a nasty habit of being clumsy and awkward around people more often than not.) It was eerie and the people who worked there seemed less alive than all the supposed ghosts that haunted the place.

Without sounding too stereotypical, my aim is to not focus on fuckwit men - which is easier said than done when you work with so goddamn many, and to sort my life out once and for all. Good job, good goals, just... Good.

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"Ronnie, it's 20 past 8!" I heard my mum shouting through my bedroom door. I start work at 9am. Brilliant. Looks like the idea of turning up to work looking like Freddie Kruger isn't going to be far from the truth this morning... Just with less blood I'm hoping.

It's Thursday, which is a strange day to start work again - but then again, what a weird way to turn up to work, with toothpaste down my clothes and my hair in a messy bun that resembles more of a birds nest than a hairdo. It's fine, at least I got here on time, that's the main thing.

The new Front of House Manager came and greeted me on arrival, not that I was aware that we were getting one... You practically run a place for 2 years and you don't even get the memo you have a manager now? He's called James and seems nice enough, but I can tell he's going to be a bit of a creep just by how he looked me up and down and smiled before shaking my hand. Mind you, that could have just been his response to the toothpaste and bird nest hair, who knows.

I took my new manager round the whole place, showing him where everything was. It's actually a pretty big place when you're attempting to show someone the whole lot in one go, you forget some places existed. The staff changing room is on that list by the state of it.

We have a gorgeous outside area with it's own little fishing lake and it has a real countryside feel to it as all the paths were lined with trees and flowers blooming brightly between them.

Right up to the entrance of the reception there were bits of wildlife everywhere, birds, deer, leaves falling to the ground; it was so scenic. It was still my place of work though, and my main source of stress, regardless. It was pretty cozy though, and I just adored showing people round and introducing them to everyone, with their face lighting up at how lovely the place and staff were, knowing the impending doom that would come; the moment that age old saying dawned on them of: 'Even the devil masquerades as an angel of light.'

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I came home that evening feeling pretty positive. I am able to focus on myself this year, and I'm back at home with my loving family. I can hear my brothers arguing over who is going to have a shower first, and I'm pretty sure my older brother just shot the other in the face with a nerf gun... But it is still lovely. As long as I stay out of the line of fire of their weapons, I think I'm going to be alright. I'm still slightly worried about the television falling on my head in the middle of the night, but I have been reassured by my younger brother that he will listen out for any cracking in the wall where he put up the TV bracket, and he will come in if he hears a crash or scream. How very considerate.