Why didn't I go to Glasgow School of Art? I went to University of Glasgow after a failed attempt to un-box Spatial Design during my Foundation at Central St. Martin's. I may have found the lack of practical creation frustrating during my degree at Glasgow but Hazel Gore's dream place at may not have been the one to covet. 

I spent a year at Central St. Martin's School of Art complete my foundation art diploma. When it came to the time to specialise I found it very hard to choose. I had been quite young at the time, well not really, I was 19 but naïve was my main quality followed by my creativity. I chose the wrong thing and ducked out before I got to BA level. Gore was younger then me when she began studying at the Glasgow School of Art. At 17, the girl from Ayr had not only the development of herself as an artist to tackle but her growth as a young adult finding her way in a new city. The duality of this journey has no doubt shaped the imagery she presents at her latest show at Veneer Gallery.

So the How I Met Your Mother finale happened, after 9 years. And I saw it, and I have some thoughts. I'm not here to pretend that HIMYM (as we will be referring to it in the interests of cutting down on both boredom and RSI) was a perfect sitcom or that it never had its problems. But I spent a lot of time as a fan. I discovered it when I was only a few years out of university, discovering life and love and long-term relationships in a similar way to the protagonists. I remember feeling during some of the early seasons that the show, while not exactly true to life (why can people in sitcoms always afford such nicer places than me even when they have worse jobs?) was pretty much nailing some of the feelings that went with that stage of life. I was watching these glamorous Manhattanites from my grotty Brighton (UK) flat, and feeling a sense of kindred feeling - that this is what it was like to be in your early 20s and scrabbling to figure things out. As the seasons wore on the characters became less relatable, but I still laughed, still wanted to find out what was going to happen to them. So what did? And just to warn you, the following is CHOCK FULL of spoilers. 

Let me begin this review by telling you about my previous visits to the carbuncle of the Brighton seafront, The Brighton Centre - the building so ugly they obscured its name in a 'face lift'. There were the work outings to Holiday on Ice orchestrated by my Dad's employers, a pre-teen outing with my mum and sister to see my favourite band eternal (no capitalisation - any true fan knows that) sadly without Louise Nerding (once they are glammed up and slick girl bands are no longer fun are they?), a spontaneous visit with my sister to see The Corrs (on a school night. A school night my teen sister and I spent looking at the audience and asking "who are all these old people?"), family members' graduations and, as of last night, to seeMiranda Hart.