Summer 2013. A time of ups and downs. In July my sister and I (correct grammar out here!) visited New York City for a week. The weather was amazing, I even picked up a rather serious tan. Upon my return I went to Wireless festival and in the sweltering heat, which helped keep my holiday glow going, I joined my idol Nasir Jones in an epic east London rap-a-long session. Great times. Surely my abidding memory of the events of the fairest season of all from the year just gone by? Well…no. You see, I am no stranger to the devil’s necter. I will happily take a cold beer as a reward for a long days work. But we all got limits! And last summer I went past mine and then some. At one point I was going to bed drunk, waking up and before I got rid of my over night stank, I was downing bottle number 1..2..3. When I look back it is hard to say what summer 2013, a three month period in a life of twenty-three years, really was. Was it a happy time? A desperate period and a cry out for help? What was that chapter in my book of life?