I have a confession to make.
I am more than a little obsessed with the past. Despite being constantly reminded that it's not good to live in the past, I can't help it. In fact, I'm guilty of reminiscing about eras I wasn't even alive in.
For most people, watching Downton Abbey or reading a Jane Austen novel is a small pleasure. They enjoy being immersed in another world, and then promptly return to reality before the credits roll.
But for me, the past has become a way of life.
From a young age I've never been able to shake the feeling that I was born in the wrong decade.
Unlike most 20-year-olds, I have developed an intense propensity towards tradition, and the very basic pleasures in life.
You're more likely to find me reading on a Saturday night, or listening to a play on the radio, than drinking and falling, dischevelled, out of a club.
And if I do go out for the evening, you'll probably find me in 1920s speakeasy-style bar Hyde and Co, or a local pub than a night club blaring the next new double-barreled music genre.
Instead of seeking pleasure in mindless TV programmes, or video games, I prefer to dip into a J.D Salinger novel or write letters to faraway friends.
In a time when my daily life is overwhelmed by digital distractions, I am finding solace in the traditional past times.
And I look to both my fictional and real life heroes for guidance.
Some of my fondest childhood memories take place at my grandmother's house in the countryside. It's only in hindsight that I realise how the lessons I learnt there have shaped me into the adult I am today.
My grandmother knew everything. From the seasons in the garden, baking and cooking to making any type of clothing from a few simple instructions. These things came naturally to her, passed on from older generations.
But this knowledge is filtered through the years like a game of Chinese whispers. My mother picked up these skills too, but by the late 90s, when I was a young child, the modern world hardly required them.
As a pre-teen I wasn't interested in learning a dying craft, I wanted to live in the 21st century. I wanted to learn digital art, photography and explore the internet.
But not too long ago, I woke up and I thought about my own children. One day, I'll probably have a family. And I hated the thought of having nothing to pass down to them, except my internet history and CD stacks with hundreds of photos that all look the same.
I wanted more from my life.
It's so easy to get caught up in mindless distractions, designed to pass the time. But I didn't want to be one of those people who go to work, just to come home and waste the evening, desperately waiting for the weekend.
I wanted every moment of my life to mean something.
So I threw out the TV, ditched the ready meals and opened my mind to the possibilities, the ideas, the future only I could make for myself.
People are surprised when they hear I'm only 20, and working as a qualified journalist. They're surprised to hear I'm 20, full-stop.
But there's no secret. I don't have magic powers, and I'm not really any different to my peers. I just woke up, one morning, a few years ago, and realised I could do anything.
So I left the grammar school I hated, against everyone's wishes, and went to college to study French, English and Photography.
While there I decided how I was going to get into journalism, and what steps I needed to take. Now I'm a senior features writer and see my work, my words, published in national magazines and newspapers.
I didn't get a lucky break. I didn't have a helping hand. I had me.
And that's why I knew I could do this too. I could find what I was missing, by looking to the past.
I have taken inspiration from the females in my family to modern-day champions of tradition like Kirstie Allsopp to my fictional heroes, the strong women I find in books.
So, this blog has been following my step into the past. I have already learnt so much in sewing, cooking and general life skills. But more importantly I have discovered a happiness that lasts.
The joy I get from creating something is more fulfilling than the temporary happiness vices like TV and alcohol can give.
Modern technology has done so much, and changed our lives irrevocably. But it's taken a lot away too, and if we don't grab on now, if we don't hold on to the traditions, the meaning of life will be distorted into an ugly, selfish thing.
One step at a time, I am trying to make myself a better person and give my life more meaning. But I'm also thinking about the future; about what I would like to pass on to my descendants.
And I don't care if it means I lose touch with the new generation. I don't care if people think I'm old-fashioned, because I'm fighting for something I believe in.
And who can really say that they care about something enough to fight for it anymore?
