Please make sure the press get this blog. Go to the Daily Mail as if you include online, it’s the most read newspaper in the world. Definitely not that cretinous newspaper which fabricates it’s stories, such as the Sun and the crap it has written about me.
You were a good friend. When we met in rehab, at first I was jealous of the more petite, more blonde, better singer, better drawer girl, with a darker fake tan than mine.
Then we discovered we shared the same birthday.
You did angel cards, me Tarot.
On J**’s bday bash, as we were the two newbies, there wasn’t room for us in the front train carriage.
We took the back, and laughed more than anyone else.
You’re perfection at doing my tan... and then the little reveal you made after rehab!! I wish we had known in their... could have definitely had way more fun!!
You met me at Victoria when I left and got me an Uber back to my house.
As I have no friends... addiction when injecting is involved is very isolating, this touched my heart more than you can imagine.
Meeting you for a few drinks whilst we job hunted and laughing at how good our rehab was...
Our openness about certain things which lead to many fun filled evenings!! The best thing was, the next day, there was no uncomfortable silences... we just carried on being best mates like nothing had happened.
You’re the most prettiest girl I know, inside and out.. I was stunned our fun nights happened and definitely bragged a lot about them.
You’re so kind, such a beautiful person R***, I am blessed to have had you in my life.
Meeting L*** your identical twin was the freakiest moment ever!!! Shit!! Two R***’s. I had loads of ‘wait a minute’ moments as my brain tried to keep up with it was L*** and not you I spoke to.
In the event of my death, all my clothes, shoes, bags, belts and accessories are first pick to you and L***. I know neither of you have much in the way of things. I want all my designer stuff (I have a real Louis Vuitton) to go to you.
My Tiffany jewellery and Pandora bracelets are yours.
My beautiful R*** and me.
Waiting for the bus to Plymouth
In Cloud 9 (aka R***’s room in rehab) - Fake tan curtesy of R***
Partying at mine - if you’ve seeen Kate Benniston’s posts about my house being a shit hole, as you can see, it’s not!)
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