The greatest adventure

Recently, I’ve stopped looking at men. When I’m pottering round the Lanes at the weekend, on the bus to work, or in the park with the dog, it’s not men that catch my eye. Sure, I can still clock a stylish pair of glasses on a whippet-boned face at twenty paces – like the most… Continue reading The greatest adventure

The necessity of being alone

The second series of the inimitable Derry Girls opens with Erin monologuing in the bath and Orla crashing in with the line, “she’s pretending she’s on Parkinson again!” I cannot tell you how much I love and, as will come as no surprise, relate to that moment. Except when I do it, it’s not Parkinson, it’s Woman’s Hour or… Continue reading The necessity of being alone

In this body

There’s nothing like a heatwave to make you painfully aware of your body, is there? After months of jeans and jumpers, a few days of delicious golden heat forces you to pull the shorts and t-shirts from where they’ve been stashed since last August, and suddenly you’re confronted with inches of pale thigh and arm. You… Continue reading In this body

But then it’s magnificent…

Sometimes, I want a fairy godmother. Not a magical one who’s going to turn the 29 bus into a horse-drawn carriage and my jeans and H&M t-shirt into a swishy frock – a real one. Part Jilly Cooper, part Polly from Peaky Blinders. Someone who’s lived a few different lives, inhabited a few different roles,… Continue reading But then it’s magnificent…

29 things

I turn 29 at the end of this week, and are you even a writer on the internet if you don’t publish a list post around your birthday? Here are 29 things I’m fairly certain I know for sure. But ask me again in half an hour a year’s time… 7 things I know about life… Continue reading 29 things

Going solo

Oh, you knew it was coming. To me, it always sounded like a horror story. The couple who got together in their early twenties, made it work through shitty first jobs, slightly-less-shitty second jobs and gruesome houseshares, finally moving in together and starting to cobble together what looked like a reasonably adult life. Only to… Continue reading Going solo

Talking to yourself

Talking to yourself is an art. I don’t mean the “oh, Jesus Christ!” you exclaim aloud as you stumble out of bed forty minutes after your alarm went off, or the “I am a terrible person who deserves nothing but misery” following the consumption of an entire Terry’s Chocolate orange (what is it about those… Continue reading Talking to yourself