I really do like to keep myself guessing with my chosen blog fodder. Don’t try to make sense of it, just read it and tell me I’m funny.
I have a daughter. A teeny tiny little human who needs everything I’ve got all day and all night. She is relentless. She is merciless. She is the most demanding and least rewarding boss I have ever had. But truthfully? She’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I cannot believe I made her. For real.
Yeah, you. Woman over the age of 30. Have you got a minute? You know how you’re not really sure you want kids? How you’re not totally sold on the whole “giving up your life to raise someone who might end up hating you” thing? You know how you still have ALL THE CAREER things you want to do which will be really, really hard to achieve with a baby in tow?
You know how you still haven’t been to Japan?
Well, hold on to your hoo-hah, honey, ‘cos we’ve got a couple of little gifts for you.
Oh hi, there. Been a while, eh? Yes, I’ve been horribly neglecting my blog, so sue me. But I’m coming at you live (I lie, blogs are not in any way live) from drizzly Dartmouth, and I have something to say. Something that’s been on my mind for ages now. Today I...
There have been thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of unkind words written about the second Sex and the City film. And let's face it, they're mostly justified. Even the biggest SATC fan (over here, guys) had to admit with a miserable shrug that SATC2 was just...
It happened. So help me, it happened. I appear to have moved to Devon by mistake. Just twelve short months after I had what I thought was a speculative discussion about packing up our lives in London and moving to the depths of the countryside, we have taken the final...
When it comes to bridesmaid careers, there are few to rival mine for sheer variety. Lucky Number Ten (I've clocked up NINE turns on this rodeo) is scheduled for next July – a month after my own nuptials – at the wedding of two of my favourite people, Liz and James. I...
Greeting and salutations from the trenches of Weddingsville. Population: me. As I tap out this blog with the last on my strength at 3am this Sunday evening, I have no fewer than 24 tabs open on my laptop browser. Some pertain to work, some to my social life (did you...
Last week, my boyfriend asked me if I’d like to be his wife. I was fairly surprised, having nudged him on the topic for a year or so and received a fairly tepid response, I genuinely thought we were a year or so away from it. But low and behold, he took me for a walk...
As long as my friends and I can’t have a bloody meal in peace without being harassed simply for being female, as long as I cannot walk home from work at night without fearfully clutching my handbag just a little bit tighter to my body, as long as I am being paid less than my male counterpart, as long as it is actually legal for a company to force you to wear high heels, as long as we are STILL having to explain what “consent” means, as long as the top jobs are still going to boys instead of girls for insufficient reasons, as long as women are being beaten up and killed in their own homes by their own boyfriends, then yes. We do still have a fucking problem.